Commands and Caresses
by Maverrat
Summary: The past repeats itself, and finding out just how true this is can be deadly. What happens when two enemies combine to fight it? Grell/Undertaker as the main focus, other pairings. Warnings: Language, yaoi, violence, lemon, slight AU. First FF!
1. Fateful Rain

Author's Note: First fanfic! Critique is welcome as long as you use your head when you write it!

This is mainly going to be Undertaker/Grell, but I have a few other favorite pairings that will make appearances (some more subtle than others) later on. :D

Warnings for yaoi, language, lemon, and violence further in.

xxx

The wind was vicious.

Grell ducked his head against the onslaught of sharp, pricking raindrops and whipping, wailing wind. He whimpered as his glasses began to fog from the heat of his body combining with the icy rain, effectively clouding his field of vision, and leaving him blinded in the midst of the storm.

Once again, he was out on one of William's hellbent missions, and, once again, he was getting the short end of the stick. After a day's worth of office work, William had sent him out at the last minute, when London was teetering on the edge of unleashing a massive storm, to go reap a grand total of three souls.

With scissors.

By some miracle, Grell had managed to complete the insane assignment, and he was now searching for some-no, _any_ kind of shelter. He wasn't even going to bother trying to make it back to the Shinigami Library in this weather, as he wouldn't be able to find a clear spot to make a transfer-portal, much less have the concentration to form one. Afterall, he could hardly see the hand that was shielding his face, much less the road in front of hi-

Grell slammed into the building that seemed to have been magicked up from the ground before him, yelping in both surprise and pain as he did so. He landed, hard, on his rear, a puddle exploding forth a torrent of water from beneath him, effectively soaking his entire body.

He gasped and scrambled clumsily to his feet, still rather disoriented, and stood, comically holding his now-soaking arms away from his body, as though it would make any sort of difference. Cursing the day William was born, Grell stumbled back into the cold brick wall and began groping along the surface, hoping to find a door, a window, or even just a crevice large enough for him to cower in as he waited out the storm.

"Yes!" He yipped, suddenly finding wood beneath his gloved fingers. He ran his hand along the surface excitedly, his fingers brushing against a doorknob within seconds. He gripped it with a soaking, slippery hand and turned it, collapsing inside onto a grimy floor as a roof finally rose up to shelter him.

He hastily hooked the door with a mud-coated boot and pulled it shut, sealing out the violent, wailing storm, and bringing the sensation of near-silence; a stark difference to his strained, ringing ears. Panting, he surveyed the dimly-lit room he had found, hoping that it was uninhabited, or, at the very least, harbored some semi-welcoming occupants.

As his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, he realized with a small stab of dread that he was surrounded by coffins, all in various stages of production. They ranged from dusty plywood boards stacked in rows against the walls, to fully finished, polished, cushioned coffins that simply needed a "customer" as a finishing touch.

Grell looked down with the speed of someone who'd just heard the distinctive sound of a rattlesnake, and realized with mute horror that he was laying on a cold stone floor covered in thick gray dust; specifically, ash, which was usually indicative of cremated remains when one was in a place such as this. Grell shot to his feet immediately, cursing the still slightly foggy glasses that obscured his view just enough to be a hindrance.

"May the Gods damn William, and all of his ridiculous regulations!" Grell muttered darkly, trying and failing to find a clean spot on his soaking, freshly-sullied outfit to polish the lenses. "The next time he makes me fetch his tea, I swear, I'm going to spit in it!"

His head snapped up as a manic giggle floated across the room, and he took a sharp step back, pressing himself flush against the door.

He sensed it now, the distinctive presence of another Shinigami. He could've groaned aloud, but he didn't dare, lest he make his own presence even more obvious. How could he have forgotten something as crucial as paying attention to his senses? Granted, he lived around other Shinigami, and the telltale feeling one got when they around their kin was easily ignored in the Library. But, if William had pounded anything into their heads, it was that you _always_ observe your surroundings as carefully as possible. Because, well, not only could Shinigami sense fellow Shinigami when they paid proper attention, but they could detect the ever-lurking danger of demons as well.

Whoops.

"I don't think dear William would be pleased to hear that..." Said a cheery, sing-song voice from across the room.

Grell opened his mouth to demand identification, then clamped it shut again, making his shark-like teeth click together. He knew that voice...

Everyone who wasn't an utter rookie knew that voice.

One of the larger, sturdier coffins was propped against the wall, and it suddenly began to shift, the top slowly sliding to one side as the yellow glint of a certain Shinigami's eyes made itself known to the watching red reaper.

The Undertaker stepped out, suppressing a yawn, and then grinning like the Cheshire Cat at his guest, who responded with a sour, unimpressed glare and a crossing of his arms. Grell cocked his hips and pouted at the Undertaker, his nose wrinkling with distaste as he studied the ancient being before him. His own appearance distressed him greatly at that moment, but he did his best to hide his annoyance at his own garb, and, instead, turned it on the Undertaker, as though Grell's current state was all his fault. Grell tilted his chin up haughtily just to ensure that Undertaker knew that he didn't care what he thought, and that, for all Grell cared, he could crawl back into his coffin and die.

Undertaker was hardly fooled.

"Well, well! How kind of you to stop by," Said the older Shinigami cheerily as he glided across the room toward Grell, who simply pressed his back against the door just a little bit harder, not the least bit eager to get any closer to the man at all. "It's almost as though you knew I wanted some company~!"

The Undertaker was an intimidating sight right then, to say the least. He was several inches taller than Grell, even when Grell had his favorite heels on, and his eyes were always hidden, which had made Grell wary of him, as it made it far more difficult for Grell to predict his next move. The dark drapes the Undertaker always wore contrasted very much with Grell's bright, crimson jacket that was draped about his elbows and the slightly darker red locks of hair that flowed down his back. Grell wasn't fond of his drab fashion taste at all, nor was he a big fan of the Undertaker's silver mane of hair. To be frank, he wasn't fond of the Undertaker _at all_. Maybe it was the way William wouldn't shut up about him (he kept insisting that Grell, and everyone else, for that matter, be more like the Undertaker. Whenever Grell would protest, he'd scold him about showing respect and then give him an extra folder of paperwork.) or the way that retired old Shinigami carried himself (it was pretty eerie to see him glide around so easily, and he always had a gait that struck Grell as haughty, as though he was quite aware of how big a fan William was, and reviled in it) or how he thought he knew everything. (Why else would he be an informant to the Queen's Guard Dogs? He probably only knew something that was actually helpful about once in a blue moon...)

In essence, Grell didn't like him on the average day, and now, alone with this man in a dark, dusty old mortician's office, he really, _really_ didn't like him.

But he wasn't scared. Not of this old lunatic.

That would just be silly.

"Hm, it seems you were caught up in the little storm out there, m'dear." He said almost a little too sweetly, dragging Grell back to reality with his sniggering at his soaking wet clothing, which was now coated in a pasty-gray substance from the ashen-dust from the floor and the rainwater mixing together.

"Your point?" Grell challenged, curling back his upper lip back and revealing a few of the gleaming, extremely sharp teeth beyond. He glared at the Undertaker over his clouded glasses, daring him to goad him further, daring him to come any closer. He was simply not in the mood for his tomfoolery, and he wouldn't hesitate to get a little... _snappy_ when he was pushed too far.

"No point, m'dear. But it would be in your best interest to dry off before you catch a cold." The Undertaker said, his own self-confident grin matching Grell's glare without the slightest sign of intimidation. He reached into one long sleeve and took out a small handkerchief, wiping a bit of the gray paste from Grell's cheek before Grell even knew what was happening.

"Don't touch me!" Grell snapped not a second later, slapping the Undertaker's hand away rather savagely. The Undertaker's grin faded the slightest amount, if only for a second, and then returned just as quickly, seeming completely unphased.

"No need to be so rude, y'know." He chided, his tone teasing and carefree. Grell snorted, tossing his hair and shoving past him, as being close enough to the man to touch him was far too close, indeed.

"All I need is a place to stay until the rain stops, it's not too much to ask." He snapped, whirling on his heel and perching daintily on the end of a finished coffin, placed upon a low-lying table near the center of the room. Facing the Undertaker, he crossed his legs and pulled off his glasses, once again beginning a futile search for a clean area of clothing to polish them, too stubborn to ask for any of the Undertaker's help.

"Well, you're welcome to sta-"

"Just make yourself useful and clean my glasses!" Grell snarled, finally reaching the end of his rope. He was sick of William and sick of the rain and sick of this older Shinigami thinking he was all that and a plate of cookies and mocking him when he was clearly in a predicament, and he'd have sooner chewed off his own leg than been locked in a mortuary with the old creep on any given day!

Before Grell knew what had happened, however, the Undertaker was before him. His vision, currently quite limited without his glasses on, was blocked out by a sudden whirl of dark gray fabric. A heavy hand pushed roughly against his chest, and, being too startled to retaliate, his entire body slammed back into the coffin, his head bouncing back up again before settling with an unflattering _thunk!_

Caught completely by surprise, Grell struggled weakly, too bewildered to fight back properly. Undertaker kept him down easily, his hands gripping Grell's wrists tightly and pinning them back against the coffin, well above his head.

"Don't you dare," Undertaker's hot breath hissed into his ear, his lips just close enough to brush the sensitive flesh and make Grell flinch. The cheer in his voice was gone now, the threat evident. "Think you can call the shots while you're around me, Grell Sutcliff."

Okay, maybe Grell was a _little_ scared of him.

In fact, Grell felt his heartrate increase immediately, and he swallowed roughly, trying to force down whatever fear-and, perhaps, another instinct entirely-might have shown on his features. Despite the stab of panic that Grell had initially felt, the feeling of that strong, very male body pinning him back so firmly against the coffin was alluring, to say the least, and the way that hot breath continued to tickle his ear made a shiver run down his spine. Whether it was dread or lust that caused the shiver, however, Grell wasn't quite sure.

He just knew that, in a way, he sort of enjoyed it.

"Now, to your glasses," The Undertaker said, pulling away just as suddenly as he'd come. He easily took the glasses from Grell's newly-limp hand and, with a few quick strokes and a gentle brush of cloth, Grell's glasses were crystal-clear once again, and the Undertaker's trademark grin was stretched across his face once more. Grell quickly sat back up, stunned and, frankly, infuriated with the older Shinigami's bizarre mood swings and condescending commands and caresses.

As though he could hear his thoughts, the Undertaker somehow smiled wider and wiped the rest of the pasty substance from a shellshocked Grell's cheek with a sly movement, sliding the cloth slowly across the ivory-colored, delightfully smooth surface.

"Why you-!" Grell barked, utterly furious. "I told you not to touch me!"

His lips pulled back in a snarl, and he raised his hand to strike the Undertaker's cocky smirk right off of his face. He'd had enough of the teasing! He was everyone's doormat, every second of every minute of every hour of every day that he managed to drag himself through! Hell, tonight, even the _weather_ couldn't cut him some slack! Well, that was it. He'd had it. He wasn't about to sit here and let some retired recluse mock him! He was Grell Sutcliff! Quite possibly the most attractive, tenacious reaper to grace the Shinigami society since-

Undertaker's hand clamped around Grell's wrist, and once again, he was slammed back against the coffin none-too-gently. He clenched his teeth as his head struck the polished surface once more. His head was still throbbing slightly from the last impact, so this one hurt just a little bit more, and he immediately found himself at a loss for words, even though he was quite a bit angrier than he'd been in a very long time.

Before he could gather the words to protest, Undertaker was on top of the coffin, straddling Grell and pinning him with the weight and sheer force of his body.

He released Grell's wrist, and his hands gripped either side of the gray vest adorning his lithe, slender chest. He yanked hard, and the vest tore open, a button flying and rolling across the floor with a noise akin to a coin being rolled across cobblestone, before settling in some remote corner of the room. Grell only just managing to comprehend the situation, let out a loud, startled yelp, grabbing at Undertaker's wrists and trying to pry him off.

Before Grell could start struggling in earnest, the Undertaker's mouth smothered his own, making him freeze with shock. Forcing Grell's lips apart and sliding his tongue inside, the Undertaker seemed unphased when he cut his tongue on one of Grell's many razor-like teeth, and instead assaulted the inside of his mouth with an almost violent kiss. Grell shuddered in both disgust and strange, primal pleasure as their kiss was filled with metallic taste of the Undertaker's blood, and his tongue fought Grell's own for control. He won easily, as Grell was still too taken aback to respond properly, and smirked against Grell's lips as the younger Shinigami shuddered again, softly.

The Undertaker pulled away, and Grell gasped as his sullied white shirt was yanked up, exposing his chest to the cold air of the Undertaker's shop. Placing a hand on either of Grell's slender shoulders, the Undertaker pinned his inferior firmly, asserting his dominance over him yet again.

Mouth slightly open, Undertaker slid his lips down Grell's throat, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing the silken flesh below it as he slowly worked his way down to Grell's chest, which was now heaving gently as Grell panted. Light streaks of blood were left behind, complimenting Grell's fair complexion with the beautiful crimson color that he looked so lovely in...

Undertaker pulled back momentarily, peering up through his bangs at Grell, then grinning as he saw the obvious pleasure written all over the face of his captive, and the way his eyes had softened with desire. Grell stared back at him, the lust he felt blatantly obvious in every way his eyes moved, the way his lips quivered, how his cheeks flushed with heat and need and, perhaps, even a bit of shyness...

Undertaker dug his long, sharp nails into Grell's shoulders, making him yelp in surprise as he was suddenly yanked out of his lusty gazing. He then bit lightly on the side of Grell's throat, causing him to shudder and groan softly, his own hands suddenly gripping the robes about Undertaker's shoulders as he clung to the silver-haired Shinigami. Undertaker smirked triumphantly, letting the pressure of his bite increase slightly. He knew Grell's type perfectly. Grell was sexy, and he was a tease, and he knew it, and relished it. All that posing, that flirting, it all simply fed the fire of his ego and caused him to flaunt himself even more. He enjoyed the attention he got, and craved more with every little glance he received. Undertaker was but one of many men (and, perhaps, even the occasional woman, such as the unfortunate Madam Red) who found Grell's overconfidence as sexy as it was obvious. However, there was one key thing that gave Undertaker the advantage; he knew, exactly, what Grell wanted.

And he was more than willing to provide.

Smirking against Grell's heated flesh, he released his bite and slid his mouth over his smooth, feminine neck, relishing the way the muscles below him rippled as Grell swallowed sharply, a quite whine escaping him. Undertaker continued down further, licking roughly at the hollow of Grell's throat, and receiving a high, pleased whimper in return. He continued sliding further down, and bit lightly at Grell's left collarbone. He sucked there with some determination, but briefly enough to not even leave a kiss-mark. Grell groaned in frustration as Undertaker yet again he resumed his exploration of Grell's body, trying to map out and remember all of Grell's little weak spots. As his lips slid lower down, his teeth lightly grazed over a delicate, pink nipple, and Grell gasped in obvious longing as Undertaker continued down his body, refusing to further pleasure the sensitive nub, allowing him to stew in his own lust, instead...

Undertaker knew what he wanted, alright.

Grell gasped again, louder this time, as he felt the Undertaker's hot, practiced tongue wending its way down his lower chest, over his ribs, toward his sensitive belly. His indignant surprise had already turned into utter, heated desire, and his pants were growing uncomfortably tight as this obviously experienced Shinigami continued to find little pleasure areas easily, exciting a tiny sound of need or shift of pleasure from Grell whenever he so desired.

The Undertaker licked his way across Grell's ribs and his thin, firm belly, causing another, more powerful shiver of delight. He paused again, teasing the young Shinigami by stroking his nose lightly along Grell's side. Grell shuddered and wriggled impatiently, much to the Undertaker's delight, and, in response, he slowly slid his tongue across Grell's stomach and flicked it inside his navel.

Grell bucked his hips in surprise, gasping and struggling weakly as Undertaker's tongue probed inside his sensitive bellybutton. "Ah..." He whimpered, too aroused to hold onto the tiny bit of restraint he had been clinging to.

He wanted this, badly. This man was so good, so dominant, so practiced. Maybe he was even a bit... _charming,_ in an odd sort of way...

Undertaker smirked, and, much to Grell's horror... pulled away and slid off of the coffin, his boots gently clicking against the cold stone floor, stirring up a small amount of dust.

Grell stared at him with obvious confusion. His face was flushed, vest torn open, shirt askew and revealing, and pants all-too tight; wasn't it obvious that he wanted him? What the hell had just happened? He thought...

From behind his bangs, Undertaker stared longingly at Grell's smooth, lithe, heaving chest, a good part of his brain telling him that he simply needed to pounce on Grell once more and resume his actions. However, the visible part of his faced was stretched in a taunting, mock-apologetic grin, and he didn't give even the slightest hint of his current mental struggle away.

_Not yet... _He chided himself firmly. _Patience._

"I apologize, Grell." He said pleasantly, as though he'd merely stepped on Grell's shoe, and hadn't just given him an erection and a very significant change of plans for the night, Turning and sweeping to the back of his shop, he called over his shoulder cheerily. "I know you are not a lady of loose morals, that was inappropriate."

Open-mouthed shock was the only answer Grell had, and the Undertaker kept his back to him as he swept into a back room, a triumphant grin on his lips.

"I'll get you some fresh clothes."

xxx

Sorry, fangirls, (and boys) no smut just yet. XD

I'm a bit of a weak writer, I know. Critique me!

Thanks for reading. :D More soon, I promise!


	2. The First Act

Grell stared after the Undertaker as the door swung shut behind him, his mouth hanging open in shock.

What in the hell? He'd just been... well, to be frank, he'd just been molested! It had been totally uncalled for, out of nowhere! He didn't even LIKE that man! How could _anyone_ like someone who ran around jumping on people like that? There must be more to his relationship with William than William let on, that masochistic bastard seemed like he might be the sort to secretly enjoy being tackled...

Grell ground his teeth, sitting up and yanking his shirt back down, humiliation, anger, and shock drawn across his face. Well, that settled it. He wasn't staying here any longer. No way, no how, not with that crazy pervert in the back room. He was probably sharpening knives so that he could cut Grell into pieces and boil him in a stew later. What else could you expect from a guy who worked with dead people all day, and _enjoyed_ it?

"He's probably a necrophiliac." Grell muttered darkly, getting up and readjusting his pants, which were still a little tighter than he'd like. He rebuttoned his vest, scowling at the missing middle button, and then stomped toward the door.

Just then, the backroom door opened, and Undertaker stepped out, holding a bundle of light-gray clothing. He frowned for a second, then a wildly amused smile stretched across his face.

"And just where are you going?" He chimed, sweeping across the room and sidling up next to Grell, leaning down and peering at him.

Grell jumped, and the Undertaker's giggling answered him. Furious, Grell bared his many fangs. "I'm leaving." He growled, reaching over and opening the door.

The gale of wind that slammed against the door caused it to fly open, and it smacked Grell into the Undertaker's chest. It whistled and blew the dust from the floor high into the air, causing a miniature dust storm to whip through the shop.

Undertaker hurriedly reached over and slammed the door closed, having a little difficulty in doing so. Coughing slightly as the stirred-up dust swirled around his face, he looked down at Grell, sighing theatrically.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he mused, adjusting the clothing so that it was under his arm and taking Grell's shoulder, gently pushing him back. "You'll ruin my coffins, you know."

Blushing furiously, Grell smacked his hand away. "I don't give a rat's ass about your coffins, Undertaker!" He snapped, storming around him. Great, there was absolutely no way he could go out in that weather, it seemed as though he were stuck in this creepy old shop with a creepy old Shinigami for the night. His day just couldn't get any worse...

The Undertaker snickered, sweeping after Grell, unphased. "Do you care for a change of clothes, then? It looks as though you'll be staying the night."

Grell sat back down on the coffin, glaring at the weathered pajamas the Undertaker was carrying.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in those." He sniffed, crossing his arms.

Undertaker chuckled darkly, and Grell shifted uneasily, staring at him. "What's so funny?" He demanded. Should he bolt for the door and make a run for it anyway? He didn't like the way Undertaker was staring at him...

"That's rather ironic, considering you're in a mortician's office." Undertaker giggled into his hand, obviously finding Grell's comment hilarious.

He ducked as one of Grell's shoes flew at his face, and his laughter exploded throughout the shop. How delicious! Grell didn't seem to have learned his lesson. Undertaker was still going to get to play...

Grell, meanwhile, was removing his other shoe for a second assault and glaring daggers at the Undertaker. How dare he suggest that he'd be wearing those rags! Grell wished he had his old scythe, as he wanted nothing more than to teach that Undertaker a lesson he most certainly _would not_ forget. Undertaker had more scars than he had fingers and toes, a few more wouldn't hurt...

"Gufufufu..." The Undertaker sniggered, slowly regaining control of himself. "T-to answer your question, m-m'dear, I'm afraid I don't have any other garments. If you want to sleep in something warm and dry tonight, it'll have to be these."

Grell dropped his other shoe reluctantly, still scowling at the pajamas. He looked from the drab gray pile to his own stained, soaking clothes, and decided that he would take the lesser of the two evils. Sighing irritably, he motioned for the Undertaker to give him the clothes.

"This will have to do." He said, making a disgusted face as he picked up the thin flannel shirt that was a few sizes too large for his slight frame. However, it was surprisingly clean, and it didn't smell of death and formaldehyde like the room they were in now, he had to give the Undertaker that much.

Jumping off the coffin and standing, he shuddered at the feeling of the dusty floor beneath his bare feet. He grabbed the matching pair of pants and wondered briefly whether they'd even fit around his trim waist. He walked toward a more secluded corner of the room, where he was fairly certain there were no peep-holes, and the Undertaker received a nasty look as he passed. Undertaker merely grinned back at him, almost expectantly.

"Aren't you going to leave? A lady needs her privacy." Grell said curtly, nodding toward the back room as a signal for the Undertaker to go.

Suddenly, Undertaker was there, pressing against him, and his back met the stone wall. Grell, half expecting the attack, struggled and tried to shove him away, but Undertaker's strong body won over easily, and Grell stayed in place, frightened and unable to move.

Undertaker need not even use his hands as a restraint this time. Grell had been clutching the clothes to his chest, and Undertaker had managed to pin him quickly enough that his arms had stayed there, his hands folded uselessly against the bundle of cloth. Undertaker smirked, his hands sliding down and stroking Grell's hips.

"I thought you could use a little help getting undressed. You do look tired, m'dear." He purred into Grell's ear, kneading his thumbs into the hollows of his hips. "I wouldn't want my guest to over exert herself."

"But I-!"

Grell was cut off as a rough kiss from his tormentor stole his very breath. Undertaker's practiced movements outwitted Grell's less-experienced, surprised lips. Before he realized what he was doing, Grell melted into the kiss. Undertaker's tongue battered the inside of Grell's mouth, sliding over his tongue and then mating with it. Slicing across his wickedly sharp teeth, flavoring the kiss with the sharp taste of blood. And, finally, it drew across his soft, firm lips as he pulled away, staining them faintly with blood. Grell whined softly at the loss of the embrace, then gasped as the Undertaker replaced his lips at his neck. He began mouthing the soft flesh for several seconds, before biting down hard, drawing a few drops of blood. He flicked his tongue rapidly over the trapped pocket of flesh, then sucked gently, stirring a heated moan of lust from Grell, who leaned his head against the Undertaker's and gasped for air.

Undertaker's large, strong hand slid up Grell's shirt and began to caress his ribs with light strokes of his long fingers . He scraped his long nails down Grell's side, instantly raising long, pink scratches. Grell cried out softly, the slight pain was delightful to him. It was proof to how dominant the Undertaker was, how he knew how to pleasure both himself and Grell, and refused to let Grell raise a finger to help... or protest, for that matter.

And that was something Grell couldn't get enough of.

Domination.

Undertaker's free hand was pulling the bright red jacket from Grell's slender arms, and Grell loosened his grip on the borrowed clothes to allow him to remove it. Undertaker smirked, kissing rapidly up the side of Grell's neck and licking up the side of his jaw slowly, before gently tugging Grell's ear with his teeth. His own arousal was becoming evident to him, but thankfully the heavy drapes of his cloak prevented Grell from noticing. Undertaker could still go through with his plan.

As the jacket fell to the floor (accompanied by the pajamas, which Grell has deemed unimportant in comparison to the man before him), Undertaker slipped his hand out from under Grell's shirt, placing both at the vest once again. This time, instead of ripping it away, he slowly, methodically began to unbutton the offending garment.

"Now, now," He breathed against Grell's ear, his tongue sliding out and stroking the curve of it. "Who told you to put this back on?"

Frustrated and extremely turned on by the dirty-talking, Grell fumbled with the buttons desperately, doing all he could to speed up the process. Amused, Undertaker allowed him to help, and he watched lustfully as Grell slowly slid the vest back over his arms and let it fall to the floor. He gazed at Undertaker from beneath his eyelashes, his face flushed and eager. Unable to control himself, Undertaker again pressed against him, harder this time, and kissed Grell almost violently, crushing their lips together. Their teeth clicked together painfully, and Grell yelped softly into the kiss, only to be drowned out when the Undertaker's hand cupped his chin and forced his head back, giving the Undertaker a better angle so that his tongue probed and prodded deeper, maneuvering expertly, doing his best to drive Grell insane.

Grell was only slightly better prepared this time, but to his surprise, he found himself welcoming the Undertaker's advances. He hands slid slowly up the older Shinigami's arms, beneath the cloak but above the second, lighter coat that he wore beneath it. Irritated at the cloth, Grell toyed with one of the buttons on the sleeve, then slipped one dainty finger between two of the offending objects. Beneath the coat, Undertaker's skin was pleasantly warm and surprisingly soft. However, Grell's finger brushed over a slightly rougher, raised area of skin, and he knew that at least one more scar lay beneath the sleeve, and probably many more.

Undertaker's first visible reaction to his touch pleased Grell immensely. A shiver ran over the entire Shinigami's body, and Grell was now the one smirking. As Undertaker's smile disappeared and was replaced by a grimace of irritation as he realized his slip.

Angered by his own show of weakness, Undertaker slipped his arms away and grabbed both of Grell's wrists. In one quick movement, he pinned both of Grell's arms above his head. Startled, Grell jumped first when the rough stone scraped his hands, and again when Undertaker's rough bite landed itself on his shoulder.

"AH!" He gasped at the feeling the skin breaking. He grimaced as pleasure and pain mixed together, complimenting and accenting one another.

He craved more.

Undertaker knew, and in another quick movement, he was holding both of Grell's wrists in one hand. He released his grip on Grell's shoulder, and planted another kiss on his lips. Grell shivered as the taste of his own blood passed his lips; combined with the Undertaker's own pleasant-tasting kiss, it was wonderful.

Undertaker's free hand gripped the bottom of Grell's shirt and he pulled it upward quickly. Goosebumps prickled across Grell's skin as the cool air swept across it, and he shivered softly. Undertaker tugged the shirt up and over Grell's head, and let go of Grell's wrists. Grell tugged his hands out of the shirt obediently, and as Undertaker pressed against him again, he wrapped his arms around Undertaker's waist, pressing his hips against Undertaker's needfully, offering himself.

_Oh god. So hard to resist..._

Undertaker's teeth gripped the bow around Grell's neck as the sodden white shirt fell to the floor. He sank down slowly, purposefully, dragging his hands down Grell's back, going to his knees and unraveling the bow as he did so. Grell moaned, gripping the Undertaker's shoulders as his elder nuzzled along his belly.

Undertaker chuckled softly, letting the ribbon drop from his mouth. His tongue slid across Grell's stomach, and it heaved gently as Grell whimpered and gasped for breath. His skin tasted slightly salty from sweat, but it was also sweet and velveteen.

_Irresistible._

Undertaker shifted his attention lower, before he could get sidetracked and lose sight of his goal, and instead hooked his thumbs in the waist of Grell's pants.

Grell, knowing what was coming next, quivered in anticipation. His lips parted, and he squeezed Undertaker's shoulders hard, moaning softly. "Please..." He begged, closing his eyes tightly. "Please!"

At that moment, Undertaker nearly gave into his temptation. The heated body beneath him, so eager and ready for his touch, was what he'd been craving for ages. It had been so long, and Grell was so _tempting_...

_No,_ He thought decisively as he tugged down Grell's pants, receiving a small buck of Grell's hips in return. _Not yet. _

He wasn't through with his game.

Grell was now clothed only in his undergarments, and his need was extremely evident. Slowly, tauntingly, Undertaker's lips pressed against the bulge, and Grell cried out loudly and bucked again, harder, as he began to mouth him through the thin fabric. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips pulled back in a grimace of pleasure. Sweat gave his body a fine glaze, and his nails were biting into Undertaker's shoulders, even through both of the coats. Undertaker smirked, giving Grell a single, teasing lick along his clothed member.

Grell nearly screamed.

Undertaker smirked, cupping one of Grell's thighs in his hand and raising his leg. He kissed his inner thigh, then slowly drew his tongue down Grell's leg, his free hand massaging his hip. Grell's moaning was driving him near temptation again, and he knew he'd have to wrap it up before he lost control.

Dropping the hand that was massaging Grell's hip, Undertaker grabbed the flannel pants, almost regretting it as he slipped Grell's raised leg into the garment. He dropped that leg, then grabbed the other and repeated the process before pulling the pants up and securing them loosely around Grell's waist.

Grell's eyes snapped open, and he stared in shock as the Undertaker rose to his feet, the shirt clutched in his hands. Grell stood numbly as Undertaker pulled him forward and tugged the shirt onto Grell's arms and around his shoulders, before pulling the shirt together and securing the buttons.

"I'll go prepare your bed." Undertaker said, smiling warmly at Grell. He turned and walked away, as though what he had just done was common among friends, and pulled the lid off of a coffin as though nothing had happened.

"But..." Grell mumbled, feeling his face flame with shame as he realized how he had acted toward the lecherous Shinigami, and, worse yet, as he noticed the extremely evident bulge in the thin flannel pants.

The Undertaker chuckled to himself, turning back and walking toward Grell. Grell's heart lept, as he was hoping for Undertaker to change his mind and take him right then and there.

"Sleep well." Undertaker said pleasantly, gesturing toward the open coffin. He pecked Grell's cheek and walked back to his own coffin with a spring in his step, then laid inside and pulled it closed.

Grell stared. Hard.

xxx

I'm teasing you again, dear fangirls. XD There (might) be smut in the next one, I promise!

Critique me!


	3. The Second Act

Grell's angry, frustrated tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, and he stared down at the coffin that was meant to be his "resting place" for the night with utter disgust.

If he'd hated the Undertaker before, he absolutely despised him now. Grell felt like an utter fool, and if there was one thing his many victims had learned the hard way, it's that you _do not_ make a fool out of Grell Sutcliff.

But, of course, if he touched one hair on the Undertaker's head, William would have his ass for dinner (not that that didn't sound appealing) and he'd be fired faster than he could say "death". Considering how he was already on thin ice, he decided it was best he didn't push his luck and leave any noticeable marks on the Undertaker.

He blinked his tears away stubbornly and sat on the edge of the coffin with a sour look on his face, glaring at the wall. Beyond it, the wind was somehow blowing and whipping even harder, and the rain was pounding loudly against the roof. The windows were too dirty to see clearly through, but even then, Grell could make out large streams of water pouring past as they ran off the roof. Yes, he was most definitely stuck here.

He glared at the coffin where the Undertaker was now resting. The lid was secured upon it, and he saw no more of the horrid man inside. He switched his angry eyes to the coffin below him, and, with an agitated sigh, slowly lowered himself inside.

It was disgraceful and strange, not to mention as creepy as hell, but it was definitely better than sleeping on the dusty stone floor. Grell was fortunate enough that there were no "customers" inside the shop today, but he didn't even want to _know_ what that floor had been through before in the past. He lay back, scowling darkly at the ceiling.

Inside the coffin, it was actually surprisingly comfy (but still rather eerie). The Undertaker took his work seriously, so the wood beneath Grell was smooth and smelled pleasantly of hickory. The velvet cushions he was lying on were soft and padded, obviously meant for a high-price, well known patient.

However, Grell wasn't stopping to admire his vampric sleeping quarters. Instead, he was wiggling with discomfort. The Undertaker's double dose of teasing had done a number on his member, which was now horribly rigid and demanding attention, making it impossible to get comfortable.

Grell squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore it as it began to ache. He wasn't giving into temptation, and he most certainly wasn't going to do _that_ with the Undertaker sleeping no more than six feet away from him. Hell, who said he was even sleeping? He was probably watching and hoping for a show, the sick pervert.

So, Grell closed his eyes and, for several minutes, unsuccessfully tried to ignore the rigid length pressing against his thigh. It was aching more and more every minute, and Grell's fidgeting was only making it worse.

Finally, Grell couldn't take it anymore. He simply had to relieve himself, and the only clear option was obvious, but very unpleasant to think about. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly as his member continued to throb insistently, and looked over at his elder's sleeping quarters. There was no way in hell he was putting the lid to his own coffin on; knowing how his luck was running, Undertaker would probably nail it shut while he was "taking care of business", so to speak. Besides, how did one even _breathe_ with one of those damn lids on?

He watched Undertaker's coffin warily for several long, awkward moments, with only the sound of the howling wind and pounding rain answering him. Slightly more at ease, he laid back, sliding a hand down his pants and gripping his member firmly. He slowly began to stroke, closing his eyes tightly as he did so.

Though he loved the feelings, he wasn't overly fond of handling himself. While it provided relief, and, erm, _entertainment,_ it also only served to remind him of how unpleasantly _male_ he was. Still, it couldn't be helped. He stifled a light moan and sped up his tempo, finally gaining a bit of relief. He squeezed his member, then relaxed his hand again as he stroked, feeling the pleasure coil in his lower belly, slowly building to climax.

He ran his thumb over the head of his member, sending a bolt of electricity up his spine. He arched his hips slightly at the sensation and sped up again, having completely forgotten his predicament for the time being. He was getting close, and bit his lip hard to keep himself quiet, his razor-like teeth causing a few drops of blood to flow into his mouth.

He was completely and utterly caught off guard when Undertaker's silky whisper sounded next to his ear.

"Would you like some help with that?"

Grell shrieked and jumped a mile, quickly yanking his hand out of the borrowed pants. He whipped around, coming face-to-face with Undertaker's Chesire grin. His face instantly flamed red, and he stared at Undertaker, his mind reeling and looking for something, _anything_, even somewhat intelligent to say.

Undertaker merely chuckled at his expression, and leaned in closer to Grell, purposely breathing softly on his neck, his braid of hair slipping down and brushing Grell's shoulder. Grell shuddered, leaning back and looking away, heart pounding from the shock of being caught.

He jumped when he felt Undertaker's nail sliding down his side and drawing circles at his hip, and the aching started once again, worse this time. Growling, his cheeks still bright red, Grell grabbed his wrist and shot him a furious look, opening his mouth to give him the verbal lashing of a lifetime.

He stopped dead when he noticed the Undertaker's arm was bare, and his eyes swept up the limb and to Undertaker's chest, which had also been stripped free of clothing. Across his right arm, which was reaching out to Grell, Undertaker had yet another long, raised scar, which, when at his side, matched up with one that snaked across his entire chest and ended at his left shoulder. His stomach had another, smaller scar, which was slanted diagnolly from his left hip and nearly met up with the massive mark across his chest, with about two inches in between. His left hand, of course, had the tiny mark on his pinkie, but his left arm had a small scar that cut across it in the area between his shoulder and elbow. He was, indeed, battle-scarred.

However, what really caught Grell's attention was the lightly muscled chest that blended perfectly into a thin, fit waist. His pelvic bones were slightly visible from the angle Grell was at. His broad, strong shoulders were tilted forward, relaxed, as he leaned against the coffin, resting his elbows against the side and supporting his chin with his left hand, grinning at Grell as he continued to stare at the older Shinigami.

He was wearing a pair of comfortably snug, dark gray pants, and nothing else besides his jade ring. He had apparently stripped for the night while in his coffin, and had slipped out silently and snuck up on Grell while he was in the middle of his "ministrations".

What startled Grell so was how unbelievably sexy his elder actually was beneath those heavy, draping clothes he always wore. He hadn't realized just how hard he was staring before the Undertaker chuckled softly and dipped his finger just a bit lower, his sharp nail gently brushing Grell's member.

"I said,_ would you like some help with that?_"

Grell shivered, instantly losing his voice again at the touch, and Undertaker grinned all the wider. Oh, how fun this Grell was. Even better than he expected.

"Well, if not, then, I wish you a pleasant night." He said cheerily. "I was just getting up to ask if you wanted some tea before bed."

He stood, and Grell tilted his head back, still staring at him with utter shock. Even without the boots, Undertaker was still easily taller than him. He was slender and yet deceptively fit without being bulky or overly-muscled. Grell could feel his mouth watering.

As he turned to leave, Grell finally found his voice.

"W-wait!" He squeaked, sitting up again and glancing down at himself to make sure his pants weren't embarrassingly askew.

"Yes?" Undertaker turned, and for a split second, Grell caught a glimpse of one glittering, brilliant eye. His mind went blank once again, and he took several seconds too long to answer.

Undertaker was grinning so hard that his jaw was starting to hurt.

"T-tea would be nice." He stuttered, struck dumb by Undertaker's expectant gaze.

"Very well!" The Undertaker chirped, bustling off. Grell stared at the smooth movement of his hips as he left, and that graceful rolling gait that was so much more evident without the cloak.

It was after Undertaker had disappeared through the same backroom that he had gone through before that Grell realized what he had just said, and how very stupid it was. Oh, he wanted _something_, but not tea, that was for damn sure.

He couldn't believe what he was thinking. Here he was, torn between wanting to get his lights fucked out by Undertaker, and wanting to castrate the man. With his teeth. Hell, knowing how weird the Undertaker was, he may not even have been trying to tease Grell so. But then, what was with all the groping! Grell was so utterly confused and torn, and he just didn't know what to do next. His still-aching cock said one thing, but his mind said another entirely.

Talk about thinking with two heads.

His brow furrowed and his mind racing, Grell stared at the backroom's door like it might explode, and that's when it hit him like a bag of bricks.

Undertaker was messing with his head.

Toying with him.

_Taunting..._

"That low-down, no good, racy, perverted son of a bitch." Grell breathed to himself, dumbstruck. How was he not able to tell before! Undertaker was playing an elaborate mind game. He was teasing Grell and then leaving him to stew in his own desires. And, Grell noticed, he only "attacked" whenever Grell tried giving the orders. First when he had demanded that Undertaker clean his glasses, and then again when he told him to leave the room...

Grell felt anger rise in his throat. How dare he! How dare he think he could take advantage of _Grell Sutcliff!_

Grell was just shifting so that he could rise and go knock Undertaker's lights out (William be damned), but then a thought struck him.

Why not play the Undertaker at his own game?

He knew Grell was bossy, so he was probably expecting many more chances to tease him that night. So why shouldn't Grell play him at his own game and play nice for once? Undertaker wouldn't be teasing him if he didn't get some sort of pleasure from it himself, so why not play nice and drive him crazy by denying him the chance to pounce upon Grell? Then, he'd eventually crack and beg, right? He'd beg Grell for just another taste, and then Grell would tease _him_. Then he'd have the choice of whether or not to let Undertaker have him, and right now, he was pretty sure he'd leave him hanging.

A grin that could have rivaled Undertaker's stretched across Grell's lips.

Two could play at this game.

Undertaker reappeared with two beakers of tea, and he sat on the edge of Grell's coffin, handing him one and smiling pleasantly, looking very pleased with himself indeed.

"Thank you." Grell said politely, shifting and hiding the bulge in his pants with some difficulty, refusing to look at the Undertaker and instead sipping at his beaker of tea.

He was expecting it to be cold and bitter, but to his surprise, it was pleasantly warm. The tea was as black and, much to Grell's delight, very sweet. It went down easily and had a nice aftertaste. Grell licked his lips appreciatively, feeling a little better.

Leaning back against the wall of the coffin, he dared to look up at Undertaker, who was taking a sip of his own beaker.

"I hope it suites your taste?" He said airily. He leaned in a bit, and Grell found himself held in place, transfixed.

"I like mine as black as night, and as sweet as sin."

Grell somehow suppressed the massive shiver that ran up his spine, and nodded slightly. "I like it."

Undertaker, still smiling, leaned back again, sipping his tea quietly and listening to the sound of the rain. Grell cleared his throat quietly, and Undertaker looked down at him.

"Would you mind getting me some more?" Grell asked pleasantly, being careful to keep his voice as polite as he could manage.

Undertaker tilted his head, studying him in silence for several seconds. Grell held the beaker out to him, and he finally took it, grinning just as he had before.

"Of course, m'dear." He said, standing and walking back to the other room, leaving Grell with a pleasant view of his rear.

He returned quickly and passed Grell the refilled beaker, and Grell nodded his thanks and clasped it between his hands, staring awkwardly at the floor of the coffin.

"You're quite the clever one."

Grell looked up again, blinking in surprise. "Hm?"

Undertaker chuckled, swilling the small amount of tea that was left in his beaker. "I wasn't expecting you to figure it out so quickly. However, you're taking the wrong approach."

Grell stared at him as those he had sprouted a second head. Undertaker grinned in return.

"What are you talking about?" Grell said evenly, doing his best to keep the shock out of his voice.

"Oh, please, as if I didn't notice the change in how you're acting." Undertaker chuckled. "I may be mad, but I'm certainly not stupid, dear Grell. You've figured out my game and now you're trying to get back at me, is that right?"

Grell stared at him, dumbfounded. Undertaker let out a barking laugh.

"You're certainly not the first!" He crowed happily, letting out another merry laugh. "Don't think me inexperienced! I should have proved to you by now that I'm very well versed indeed!" He chided, chucking Grell under the chin and grinning as another blush colored Grell's face. "But it pleases me to say that you're the first to figure it out so _quickly_!

"You see," he said, finishing his tea and setting the beaker on the ground. Grell gasped as Undertaker slid inside the coffin next to him, and shivered he crouched over him, like a silver tiger contemplating its prey. Grell's own beaker was forgotten as the Undertaker leaned in and nuzzled his neck, causing Grell's face to flush an even darker shade of red and his member to ache the worst it had yet.

"I like it when my bitches beg."

Grell gasped as he felt the Undertaker's tongue slide across his throat, and his retort was forgotten. He moaned softly, his grip tightening on the beaker of tea.

"You see, teasing them amuses me." He purred in Grell's ear, his hands sliding slowly up his arms. "But the best part is when they can't take it anymore, and they finally tell me what they want.

"But it's been such a long time." He mused, sliding his hands to Grell's sides and massaging them gently. Grell closed his eyes, furrowing his brow as he tried to concentrate on the Undertaker's words rather than his actions. He was failing horribly.

"I haven't had fun like this in over half a century, Grell, I'm afraid I went a little too far with my teasing. Now I'm afraid I can't quite wait either."

Those practiced hands squeezed Grell's hips, and Grell moaned softly, wincing as he did so. It was just too much...

"So, Grell," The Undertaker said, his voice losing the purr, suddenly becoming more forceful. "Are you really going to deny the two of us?"

Grell opened his eyes, panting heavily. The Undertaker had him trapped. His hands were placed next to either one of Grell's arms, and he was leaning in so close that Grell felt the breath of every word against the edge of his jaw. His long, scarred body was tense, waiting, and Grell honestly didn't know just what he was in for.

And it excited him beyond belief.

Undertaker smirked, tilting his head so that their lips were brushing with each word.

"Tell me what you want."

In response, Grell turned his head away and sat up a little straighter, setting the beaker of tea down on the floor.

He then leaned in and bit down on the Undertaker's neck.

It was most certainly not the potentially lethal bite that Grell could have landed, but it sure as hell drew blood. Undertaker gasped in surprise and, much to Grell's delight, shuddered as a moan escaped his lips.

Grell sucked greedily at the wound, then cleansed it with several rough strokes of his tongue. Undertaker was now gripping his wrists hard, hard enough to leave bruises, and it only served to excite Grell further.

He was in for it now.

xxx

There was a bit of light smut in this chapter, right? I guess... ;w;

Sorry to leave you hanging again, fangirls, but I swear to real stuff will be in the next chapter! I WILL DELIVER!

Critique please!


	4. Climax

Author's Note: Eeee! Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! ^_^ I wasn't having the best day, but reading all of those lovely comments made me so much happier! Thank you all so very, very much!

I hope the characters are really as IC as you say they are, I was concerned that I wasn't quite nailing them correctly. ^_^;; But if you like the way that they are, I see no reason to change them! (Don't fix it if it ain't broke, right? lol)

Anyway, in return for all the encouragement... I BRING YOU LEMON!

Have fun~

xxx

Undertaker hissed through his teeth as Grell finally released the grip he had on his throat. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body, making his skin glisten, and a few more drops of blood flowed slowly from the fresh, sharp wound. His smile had vanished and been replaced with a grimace of pain and lustful longing, his strong, scarred chest heaving slightly as he panted for air, recovering from the shocking, exciting bite.

Suddenly, he released Grell's wrists and shifted so that he was sitting back and no longer trapping Grell with his body. For a fleeting second, Grell felt a wave of disappointed frustration crash over him, as it seemed that the Undertaker was leaving. He stared at the Undertaker pleadingly, and received a grin in return.

"Oh no, don't think you'll be getting off _that_ easily." He purred in that silky, extremely sexy way of his. He grabbed Grell's hips and roughly forced him to roll over onto his stomach, and Grell yelped in surprise as he felt that dominating body lay firmly over his own, (thankfully) denying him freedom once again. His member pressed uncomfortably against the floor of the coffin, and he could feel it throbbing against his own thigh.

Undertaker, too, was very literally excited. There was no hiding Undertaker's obvious bulge now. As he straddled Grell, his member pressed against the back of Grell's thigh, separated from his leg by only two thin, frustrating layers of fabric.

And he wanted them gone, so he could feel Grell's soft skin against his member. So he could rub and thrust and press against the heat of his body, and, then, inside his body. He craved nothing more than to be buried by that velveteen flesh. He wanted Grell utterly, and he wouldn't, couldn't stop now if William himself paraded in and commanded him to. Grell was simply too much, too tempting... He _needed_ him.

Grell was grabbed about his middle and lifted to his hands and knees by a slightly impatient Undertaker. Not having enough room on the coffin floor alone, he gripped the side of the coffin instead and supported his upper body there. He felt the Undertaker lean over him, his chest pressing against Grell's lower back as he fought with the buttons of Grell's shirt, nuzzling him through the fabric as he did so. Grell groaned needily, squeezing his eyes shut as his painfully erect member continued to throb, only being made all the worse by Undertaker's dominating actions. He needed to be taken care of soon, or he just might burst.

Finally, after a wait that was several seconds to long for either of them, his shirt came open, and Undertaker slid it off quickly, causing Grell to shudder as the air struck his skin, which was hyper-sensitive with lust and craving. He felt Undertaker's lips sliding rapidly up his back, sending up shivers of delight as they went.

Undertaker's hands slipped around him yet again, sliding slowly up his chest this time, causing Grell to arch slightly and gasp as those warm hands and the cool metal of his ring contrasted beautifully. Undertaker's experienced fingers began toying with his sensitive nipples, and Grell mewled helplessly, shudders rippling his chest. Undertaker's fingers first rubbed gently, then grew rougher as his lips reached Grell's shoulder. Wordlessly, breathlessly, he bit down hard on Grell's right shoulder, his fingers pinching down on Grell's sensitive nubs in the same instant.

Grell cried out loudly, arching his back sharply and causing the Undertaker to press his weight more firmly against Grell in order to keep him down. This caused Undertaker's member to rub against Grell's rear, and Grell let out a tiny, eager cry at the feeling of Undertaker rubbing against the cleft of his cheeks. So good...

Undertaker's low growl of satisfaction both startled and excited Grell. It was completely lacking any of his usual playful, easy humor, and it sounded right next to his ear, almost out of nowhere. There was a ruthless, seeking edge to it, hard and demanding. Undertaker wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted, and just what that was, Grell wasn't sure, but he had the feeling that he was going to find out.

Undertaker removed his fingers from Grell's sensitive nubs, and instead, raked his left hand down Grell's ribs. His nails instantly left long, red scratches, and a few drops of blood beaded here and there. Grell jumped in surprise, moaning loudly as pleasure and pain mixed in his lower abdomen. It was a strange, glorious sensation, and he craved more than he thought possible.

Undertaker was more than willing to provide.

Undertaker's hand slid slowly, seductively across Grell's chest and up his neck, enticing him with gentle swirling motions of his fingers as he went. Grell's breath increased, and Undertaker smirked against his shoulder, pleased with Grell's obvious, eager reactions. His hand cupped Grell's jaw, and offered two fingers by brushing them against Grell's lips. Grell accepted immediately, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking greedily, wrapping his tongue around them at intervals and sliding it down, coating them thoroughly. He bobbed his head gently in order to better coat the digits, and to savor the taste of them as he took them deeper. A delicious blush was coloring his face, making it feel warm against Undertaker's hand, and his mouth was blisteringly, tauntingly hot and wet.

Undertaker shuddered softly at the sensation, unable to do anything but think about how good Grell would be somewhere else. After a few seconds, he forced himself to concentrate on exploring the rest of Grell's body, doing his best not to pay too much attention to Grell's suckling, so as not to lose control of himself. His free hand slid down Grell's belly and gripped the waistband of his pants, gently pulling and letting the fabric fall back against Grell's soft skin. He began to slowly pull them down, grinning as Grell gave an impatient whine around his fingers.

Finally, Undertaker pulled the garment completely off, and Grell shivered all over with anticipation. Undertaker smirked, tugging teasingly at Grell's undergarments, causing another, louder whine to sound from his spunky little lover, who now gently scraped his teeth over Undertaker's fingers, begging him to go on. Undertaker, unable to take it much longer himself, tugged Grell's last bit of clothing away.

Grell jumped as the cold air finally struck his member, and Undertaker chuckled darkly next to his ear. He removed his fingers from Grell's mouth, nipping sharply at his ear as he did so, then gripping the side of it and tugging twice. Grell growled softly at him, giving him a lustful, taunting glare over his shoulder, and Undertaker smirked against his neck in return.

"You just never learn, do you?" He purred, pulling back slightly and slowly sliding his lips back down Grell's back. He traced along the long, thin line where Grell's spine, and many, many sensitive nerves, lay beneath the skin. His tongue left a hot, eager trail in its wake, pausing to flutter and flick rapidly here and there. Grell bucked slightly, but Undertaker gripped his hips, digging his nails in and instantly leaving scratches, forcing his hips to stay down.

"Consider this payback," he whispered loudly as he reached the small of Grell's back. "Because it wasn't such a wise idea to bite me, m'dear."

Grell shifted slightly, spreading his legs in anticipation, though he was nervous of what might be coming. Undertaker smirked, tracing his tongue along the cleft of Grell's cheeks before finally finding his entrance.

Grell yelled softly as Undertaker slid his tongue along that surface, gently probing at him one moment, then fluttering his tongue lightly, then flicking him roughly the next. His hand slid down Grell's belly, causing him to arch involuntarily and press further against Undertaker by mistake, heightening the teasing pleasure Undertaker was administering. Undertaker caressed Grell's member softly, further teasing him in one of the most unbearable ways possible. Grell already ached horribly, and the tiny touch sent a lightening bolt of pleasure-pain through his entire body, causing him to quake and moan. The movement of Undertaker's tongue did nothing to help, and instead, Grell was cracking and getting ready to beg to be filled, be be penetrated and possessed and taken...

Undertaker smirked, drawing away from Grell's entrance and running his tongue along the inside of Grell's leg instead, drawing intricate patterns with his tongue and causing Grell to utter a string of curses, both from the loss of friction at his entrance, and the sheer bliss of what Undertaker was doing. Undertaker's own member was chafing slightly, and he cursed his pants, which had been snug before and now were way too tight.

"Mmm..." He purred, laying his cheek against the small of Grell's back. His finger began tracing a sensual circle in the area just above Grell's member, causing him to cry out pleadingly and thrust forward, begging for just a little touch...

"I don't think I'm quite so fond of this position." He breathed against Grell's back, causing the overpowered young Shinigami to quiver in excitement and apprehension.

Grell felt Undertaker shift back, and he heard the rustle and pull of fabric moving over skin. He felt Undertaker's eyes searching his body, admiring him and contemplating what he would do next with the supple young man in front of him. Knowing he was being stared at made Grell feel a little self-conscious, but knowing that Undertaker seemed to enjoy what he was seeing also made him feel, well... _sexy_.

He felt Undertaker's hands grip his middle yet again, and he was pulled back suddenly and was made to sit in the Undertaker's lap, leaning back against that warm, broad expanse of torso.

Grell gasped in pleasant surprise. He could feel the Undertaker's member right there, exposed and pressing against his back, just above his rear. He, like Grell, was rock-hard and very ready. Grell could feel, faintly, the scars that crossed Undertaker's body against his back, and his hot breath was brushing against his ear with every excited gasp that left his lips. Undertaker's legs were folded beneath him, with his pants unzipped and pulled down slightly, but still on. Grell's legs draped over either of his thighs, and his shins rested against the bottom of the coffin. He gripped Undertaker's legs with his own for support. He leaned back against Undertaker and licked his neck to signal that he was settled, and, of course, ready for his next move.

"Much better..." Undertaker crooned, leaning down and nibbling at Grell's neck. At the same time, Undertaker tapped Grell's hips lightly with his fingertips, and Grell obediently raised himself a few inches higher, quivering gently with excitement. Undertaker pressed his still-wet finger against his entrance, and Grell cried out sharply as it slid inside, tossing his head back and bucking slightly as Undertaker began to thrust the digit in earnest. Undertaker's teeth clamped down and trapped a pocket of skin he'd been nibbling on, the bite rough and sudden, but wonderfully satisfying for the both of them.

Undertaker sucked roughly at Grell's neck, rolling his skin between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it viciously. It raised a small, dark-colored kiss mark quickly, and he pulled away and started the same ruthless treatments on Grell's shoulder, causing Grell to wince and whimper and beg for more. The kiss-marks were rough enough that they were bruising slightly even seconds after Undertaker had administered them, and at the rate he was applying them, Grell would be covered in bruises by the night's end.

Grell gripped Undertaker's hips hard as he felt the second finger slide in, and Undertaker switched his attention to the other side of Grell's neck, starting another series of rough kisses. He thrust his fingers roughly several times, then began to scissor them. Grell arched back and gripped his earlobe, sucking at the metal there and marveling at the difference in taste between Undertaker's skin and the piercings. His teeth clinked lightly against the metal, and he closed his eyes, drawing his tongue across them once again before pulling away.

Undertaker shivered, dragging his nails down Grell's ribs again and feeling pleasure tap a place in his mind as Grell cried out. He was still stroking inside of him with his fingers, searching...

Grell cried out as Undertaker hit something inside of him that made his head spin. Undertaker smirked triumphantly, dragging his fingers down slowly, obscenely, and stroking that spot again, causing Grell to arch and mewl like he had no self-control at all.

He moaned in near despair as the Undertaker pulled his digits out, then took a sharp breath and held it as he felt Undertaker grip his hips and shift him just another inch up. The head of Undertaker's member pressed against his entrance, asking, begging permission. He reached up an wrapped one arm around Undertaker's neck for support, bracing himself and giving the signal at the same time.

Undertaker kissed Grell roughly as he slowly slid inside, hoping to distract him if he accidentally caused him any pain. Grell kissed him back harshly, seeming to have no problem as the Undertaker pressed in. He kissed him back tenfold, their tongues touching and dancing around each other, the sweet taste of their embrace filling both of their mouths.

Undertaker finally slid his way fully inside, shuddering in delight as he did so. Grell was surprisingly tight and perfectly firm, and very warm inside. It was exactly what the Undertaker had been craving, and Grell had provided perfectly without trying at all. He was just right, just enough experience to know what was going on and what to do and expect next, but still inexperienced enough to be surprised and dominated.

He was perfect.

As their kiss finally ended, Undertaker ducked his head and began nipping roughly along Grell's neck and shoulders, giving Grell a first gentle, adjusting thrust to help him grow used to his presence as he did so. He massaged his hips, his fingers brushing the small cuts there and sending small jolts of pleasure-pain up Grell's back.

"D-dammit..." Grell whimpered, shifting down against Undertaker in response, desperately craving more movement. His eyes were tightly closed, his teeth clenched as he tried to keep himself under control. Undertaker felt so damn good, and he hadn't even started moving yet. He was thick and hot, and the way he could both move his hips and his hands to provide one hell of a combination drove Grell insane. Grell groaned with impatience, rocking against Undertaker encouragingly, trying to get him to move like he wanted him to so, so badly.

Undertaker, amused, pretended as though he had misinterpreted Grell's movements. He slowly began to pull out, and Grell gasped and shifted down against him, desperate to stay in contact. He shot Undertaker a furious look, warning him that if this was just another tease, he was as good as dead.

"Am I hurting you?" Undertaker inquired lightly, doing his best to hide his typical smile. One finger brushed Grell's member, and Grell growled in irritation as he realized that yes, he was being teased. "I can't go on if you're being hurt..."

Oh god, the things Undertaker would do for a laugh. It was so, so hard to stop moving when he was buried up to the hilt in Grell. It was so hard not to just grab him and fuck his brains out...

"Just hurry up and FUCK ME ALREADY!" Grell cried. He was being driven absolutely mad, and he hadn't come this far just to be denied again. Undertaker had damn sure better deliver.

Well, how convenient.

Undertaker let out a mad laugh, and Grell screamed lowly as he slammed into him. His legs gripped Undertaker's thighs hard, and his arm clutched at his neck desperately, trying to stay balanced as the sudden, intense motions began. Undertaker's hips were rolling and bucking in such a way that reminded Grell of a mad, out of control horse, and Grell was grinding against him deliciously, the slip and slide of their skin only serving to heighten his pleasure.

Undertaker leaned back against the coffin wall for support, and his hands were aiding in his rough, strong, practiced thrusts by pulling Grell's hips in time with his own, tuning him into a sympathetic downthrust that maximized the potential of every movement. Leaning back also angled him in such a way that, as soon as he was completely readjusted, Grell started crying out loudly with every thrust pf his hips. Undertaker smirked, his lips pulling back in a grimace of pleasure as the good feelings of Grell and pleasing Grell mixed and intertwined together. He could feel the pleasure tightening and coiling in his lower abdomen, and he knew he was getting close. However, he was hardly done with Grell just yet.

Grell, meanwhile, was on cloud-nine. The new angle tapped his sweet spot with every thrust, and it showed him more than any of the kisses could that yes, oh _yes_, Undertaker knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He had the perfect combination of thrusting, which reached deep inside of Grell, and a peculiar but very pleasant rolling motion, which slid the head of his member over Grell's sweet spot, and caused a cry from Grell and a restrained gasp from Undertaker, who was doing his best to keep as silent as possible. It was pure bliss, and Grell couldn't ever remember feeling so good with anyone else.

Grell could feel Undertaker's nails biting into his hips with every thrust and pull and roll, thrust and pull and roll... He could feel some blood dribbling down his hips, and the sweet sting of sweat running into his wounds. Undertaker's mouth was battering another small area of his neck with those vicious kisses once again. Sharp teeth rolled his skin, a talented, confident tongue flicked rapidly, roughly over the sensitive area, and his lips kneaded gently against him. It all combined, the pain, the kisses, and the sweet, almost-unbearable pleasure of Undertaker's thrusting into one giant wave that was threatening to completely overwhelm Grell and send him over the edge...

"Ahh... Ah! AH!" He cried, the next few thrusts tightening the coil of pleasure immensely. He knew he was close, very close. Grell furrowed his brow, trying to make himself last just long enough for Undertaker to finish first...

_Hey, who's moaning like that? _Grell wondered dimly, completely unaware of the cries escaping his lips.

Frankly, he was too far gone to care.

Undertaker, knowing what the cries meant, smirked. He balanced himself, then released one of Grell's hips and slid his hand across his side, reaching around and gripping his member tightly. He began to stroke Grell roughly, tightening his hand hard as he stroked down, then loosening it again as he moved back up, repeating the process again and again with an incredibly fast pace.

Undertaker was getting very close himself, and he was struggling to hold back his moans as he thrust viciously into Grell again and again. Grell was a wonderful, enveloping bliss, and he wasn't going to last much longer if Grell kept up that erotic moaning.

Grell's vision clouded as the Undertaker finally drove him over the edge. It was too much! It was all too much in the very best way possible!

Finally, with one last, rough stroke from the Undertaker's skilled hand, his entire body rippled as his orgasm fell upon him, and a particularly loud cry left his lips.

Undertaker smirked, and just as Grell was about to cum, he slipped his hand down and squeezed the base of his member, holding back his orgasm.

Instead of peaking and falling, Grell's orgasm built up upon itself. It quickly rose in intensity, then plateaued and drew out for several long, glorious seconds. Grell had never felt anything so amazing before in his life. His senses blacked out. He couldn't see, could barely hear his own erratic cries. All he could do at that moment was feel the incredible pleasure that engulfed his entire body.

Just before the orgasm could peak further and become painful, Undertaker released his grip and stroked Grell twice more to make sure he climaxed.

Grell arched his back and literally screamed. Not the quiet, short screams he had released before, but an honest, longer scream of one who was completely overwhelmed by the most amazing feeling they'd ever had.

Undertaker gave one last thrust and came in unison with Grell, and he was grateful for that well-timed scream for two reasons; it drowned out his own embarrassingly manic, heated cries of ecstasy that breached his lips as he spilled his seed inside of Grell, directly onto his sweet spot (which caused Grell's cry to reach a high peak before it fell) and because it meant he had done a damn good job.

It was what he had been waiting for.

As Grell fell from his high, he fell back against the Undertaker's chest, his feminine body racked with gasping, heaving moans as he fought to catch his breath. Undertaker was doing only slightly better as he slumped back against the coffin wall, completely spent and gasping for air. It had been so good, and after such a long time...

Slowly, Grell's mind came back online, and he could once again form semi-coherent thoughts. He first noticed the hot, sticky coating that covered both his stomach and Undertaker's hand, and the feeling of his lover's chest rising and falling beneath him.

He gasped gently as Undertaker shifted and pulled out, and he laid his head in the crook of Undertaker's neck, closing his eyes and trying to slow his own breath.

Undertaker laughed weakly, and Grell opened his eyes and looked up at him.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," He whispered. "I know I did."

He leaned down and kissed Grell gently, too spent to tease him any further. Grell blushed and blended into the kiss, drawing a circle absentmindedly on Undertaker's hip as he did so.

A wave of exhaustion sweeping over him, Undertaker shifted and then laid back in the coffin, pulling Grell close to him. Grell, surprised, allowed himself to be pulled down, and after a moment of hesitation, laid his head against Undertaker's neck again and closed his eyes, settling against the warmth of his body.

The last thing he remembered was a gentle hand stroking his hair, and a quiet chuckle as he quickly fell asleep.

xxx

Well, there's your long desired lemon, fangirls. ;) This being my first fanfic, it's also my first lemon, so I hope it wasn't too bad and that it lived up to your expectations.

Stick around! Even though the lemon has finally arrived, the story's hardly over yet. In fact, we're just getting started...


	5. Alone, Again

Eeeh! Thank you all so much again! ^_^ It's so encouraging to see these reviews! I'm glad the lemon turned out well!

If any of you were curious, I do indeed write about one chapter a day. :) I've just had this idea bouncing around in my head for awhile, so I finally sat down and started writing once I realized that the world needs more Undertaker/Grell~!

Thank you so much again, and let me just say that if this story gets deleted for any reason, I'm probably going to make a Livejournal account and post it under the same title. :) No worries!

Sorry if this chapter doesn't have much action, but I promise the next few will have PLENTY to make up for it!

xxx

Dull gray light filled the room and fell across Grell's face, causing him to stir in his sleep. The Shinigami was still curled up snugly in the coffin, a warm blanket tucked around his body.

He mumbled something, then rolled over, smacking his head against the wall of the coffin and bringing himself to a halt.

Slowly, like a cat who had fallen half-asleep and was then disturbed, Grell slit his eyes open, glaring daggers at the wood that had woken him so unceremoniously. He stayed still for several seconds, then let his eyes slide closed again.

It was then that the previous night's events struck him like a train.

He sat bolt upright, realizing that the Undertaker wasn't next to him as he should have been. He looked around for a second before realizing that he couldn't see Undertaker anywhere.

Hell, he couldn't see _anything_.

He was one of the few Shinigami that actually _needed_ his glasses. William had claimed before that the glasses were necessary, for some reason. But, Grell had never really noticed any difference (William claimed that it was because he wore them all the time) and, therefore, he was convinced that William was simply so obsessed with uniform(ity) that he gave anyone, even those who had perfect vision (which happened to be most of the workforce) false lenses. Afterall, why else would receiving your glasses after you completed training signify your rank as a true Shinigami?

However, Grell himself was horribly near-sighted, and he could hardly see a few feet over the coffin's wall. Therefore, necessary to the others or not, it was imperitive that he found his glasses as soon as possible.

He fumbled around on the floor of the coffin, searching desperately for them. Finding nothing, he did a most unladylike thing and swore under his breath. Those frames were designer, dammit! They had better drop out of the sky and into his lap if Undertaker didn't want to eat his own hat for breakfast!

He searched the coffin twice more, growing more and more frantic every time his hands came up short. He shook out the blanket and still couldn't find anything. Blushing and squinting about to make absolutely sure that no one (especially not Undertaker. It would be just like him to do something like this!) was there, he took a deep breath, wrapped the blanket around his still-nude body, and stepped clumsily out of the coffin.

Once out, he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Undertaker was just in the back room, and all Grell had to do was smack him and demand his glasses back. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he should really get back to work soon, or William would push him down the nearest flight of stairs and then give him double shifts. Grell shuddered; it wasn't that much of a stretch.

He toddled out unsteadily, as his grace had disappeared with his vision. If he could just find his way to the back room...

Grell took another step, and something hard and slightly sharp caught his ankle. He squalled in outraged surprise as he sprawled onto the floor, and the sound of wood sliding roughly across the dusty stone only served to befuddle him further.

Rolling over and baring his many shark-like teeth defensively, Grell faced his attacker... a species known as the common kitchen chair.

He squinted hard for several seconds, then felt his face heat and color red. To his immense surprise (and relief... or dread, he wasn't sure which just yet) no manic laughter filled the room. Grell was only greeted by the stony, disapproving silence of the chair, which bared an uncanny resemblance to William's own stiff demeanor.

He squinted harder, noticing something small and silver perched upon the chair. He sat up and leaned over, groping at it curiously, and being met with the feeling of lukewarm metal.

His fingers brushed something papery, and he blinked, grabbing and tugging at the object. He was rewarded with a sheet of paper, brittle and yellowed with age. There appeared to be something written on it, and he squinted hard, pulling it closer until it almost touched his nose. His eyes scanned the neat, articulate writing, feeling something in his stomach twist with a feeling he had come to know all too well.

_Dear Grell,_

_Sorry to leave you like this, but an order came in the other day, and I'm scheduled to pick up the body of a duchess. It's a long trip and I didn't want to wake you, as you're really quite adorable when you talk in your sleep. I did, however, clean your clothes and leave you a little something to eat, if you wish. If you'd care for a bath, the washroom is in the back and on the left, I'm sure you'll be able to find everything._

_Thank you for last night, it was extremely enjoyable. You're welcome to come by any time, you know. If William fusses, just give him this letter and I'm sure he'll hush._

_Regards,_

_Undertaker._

Grell blinked, then grit his teeth, fury washing over him. Like _hell_ he would give this to William! Not with that "thank you for last night" Undertaker had had the gall to slip in! Grell snorted and tossed the note away, hardly surprised that Undertaker had found a subtle way to brag, as so many men seemed to. The nerve! And how dare he suggest that Grell did something as unladylike and absurd as sleep talking!

Besides, where in the hell were his clothes? Knowing Undertaker, he'd probably hung them atop the highest tower of London, and Grell would have to run up the side in nothing but his own skin to get them down. Grell snorted to himself with disgust. Men...

Muttering, he stood up again, rubbing his smarting ankle. He blinked, squinted, and finally saw the second chair next to the first, which had been hidden from view a second before. The twin chair was covered in a bright splash of red, and Grell felt giddy with relief as he hurried over.

He bent down and ran his hand over the red blaze, and to his immense relief, both the velvet of his jacket and the cool metal of his glasses met his hand. He quickly picked them up and slipped them on, sighing in gratitude as the world became at least ten times clearer.

He quickly looked through the rest of his clothes, taking inventory. Shirt, vest, jacket, pants, ribbon, boots... It was all there and freshly clean, free of the pasty dust from the night before.

He glanced over at the first chair, and to his pleasure saw a tea kettle, a beaker, and a plate of the bone-shaped cookies Undertaker was so fond of. He tilted his head and picked up a cookie, curious. He took a small bite, and to his surprise found that it was an odd yet pleasant combination of peanut-butter and brown sugar. Like the tea, it was pretty sweet, and Grell smirked to himself; apparently Undertaker had a sweet tooth.

The cookies were chewy and melted in his mouth, and Grell poured himself a beaker of tea and moved the tea set to the floor, sitting down on the chair himself and munching a cookie as he read over the letter once again. Now that he knew where his possessions were (and could see once again, hallelujah) he was much calmer, though he still had a bit of a sinking feeling as his eyes grazed one particular line in the letter. Blinking, he finished one of the cookies and reached over into his jacket, rummaging around in one of the pockets and then finally pulling out a rosy-red pocket watch.

He flipped it open, and to his pleasant surprise found that it was only about seven in the morning. Normally, Grell was allowed to sleep in until nine thirty, so this meant he had some time to relax.

He finished the last of the cookies and his beaker of tea, then grabbed his clothes and headed for the door at the back of the shop, deciding that he may as well take a bath before he met up with William, as it may be the last chance he would get in awhile, what with his uptight superior's way of giving him impossible assignments that, more often than not, left him scrapped for time and utterly exhausted.

He opened the back door, bracing himself for some scene from a horror movie, but was pleasantly suprised to find nothing more than a slightly narrow hallway. To his right, a little farther up ahead, was another door, identical to the rest and completely closed. Across from it, on the left as had been promised, the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. At the very end of the hall was yet another, larger door, and Grell guessed that it was either the man's kitchen... or something he _probably_ didn't want to know about.

He nudged the door to the washroom open, banishing all other thoughts from his mind as he surveyed the room around him. The chamber pot and clawed bathtub were both a dark gray color, and the sink was only a slightly lighter shade of silver-gray. There were no windows, and since it was still raining softly outside, the cloudy day made the entire shop seem twice as gloomy, which didn't help the plight of either the bathroom nor the dusty mirror above the sink. Grell contemplated whether or not he honestly wanted a bath for several seconds, and just what might have been in that tub before him. It took a moment before he finally decided that yes, yes he did want a bath, despite the creepy settings, because he'd probably be given double shifts for not showing up at the Library and turning in his work last night. So, he closed the door behind him, only letting the blanket drop when he'd double-checked that the door was locked.

The Undertaker, despite denying payment in the form of the Queen's money, was actually quite well-off, and had plumbing in his home; something that only the rich enjoyed in this area. Grell suspected that William probably had something to do with it, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at how much of a suck-up the man was as he laid in the clawed bathtub and turned the knobs, beginning to fill it with comfortably hot water.

He closed his eyes indulgently as he laid back, letting his mind go blank as he savored the heat. However, after a few minutes, several areas across his skin began to sting a little when the water touched them. He opened his eyes and quickly looked down at himself, not having a clue as to what was going on. His eyes grew wide with shock at the multitude of scratches and scrapes scattered across his pale body that were reacting to the sudden sensation of hot water, and right at that moment, he could have throttled someone.

There were four long scratches down one side of his ribs, and a few smaller, lighter ones along his belly. His hips, however, had it the worst, and were covered in cuts and bruises, some deeper or darker than others, and some in more tender, painful areas. Not to mention, even sitting down hurt a little; and it wasn't because of his hips, either.

He winced as his back burned slightly, and he twisted, trying to get a better look at himself. By holding his hair aside with one hand and looking back over his shoulder, he finally came to the conclusion that his back had the same damn scratches that were across his ribs, and his shoulders were covered in bruised kiss-marks. Grell felt his throat, and winced as his hand met the skin, which was also tender from Undertaker's rough kisses.

He was downright _pissed,_ to say the least. Now he'd be all marred up for the three days or so, and that was no way for a lady to look! Not like all those cheap whores he had tried to get rid of not so long ago! Didn't that blasted fool know how to handle a _woman? _

Fuming, he leaned back again, seriously wondering why the heat of his anger wasn't making the water boil. It was then that he realized that he didn't have his makeup on him, and William was going to notice the marks on his upper neck when he got back, and he'd definitely want to know what Grell had been up to. (Meaning, of course, that any questions he'd ask would be rhetorical, as William would know _very_ well what he'd been up to, and would be twice as merciless with his punishment.)

"Shit!" Grell cried after a moment, throwing up his arms with exasperation. How was he going to get out of this one? William was going to accuse him of skipping work to go and mess around (it wasn't like that! Really!) and he'd probably get a pay cut, if not get demoted again... or worse...

"Undertaker..." He hissed venemously, sinking down so that the rising water was up to his chin, ignoring the slight burning of the various wounds all over his body. He closed his eyes, doing his best to try and remedy his solution, or simply make the marks disappear entirely with sheer mental will-power. Needless to say, nothing happened; and he still didn't have any bright ideas, either.

He spent about an hour in the bath, but it mostly consisted of him pouting for twenty minutes straight, before finally washing himself clean. Finally, he stepped out and checked his watch again, fully expecting that his luck would worsen and he'd find himself late to work as well. However, it was only five minutes after eight; plenty of time for him to get dressed and get back to the Library... and think up an excuse as he went.

He drained the tub, then, seeing nothing else, grabbed the blanket and toweled off as best he could. He then got his clothes and got dressed quickly, flipping out his hair so that it would dry faster and fixing the last of the buckles on his boots as the last of the water in the tub gurgled away.

Just before he tied his ribbon back around his neck, he gave it a thoughtful look as an idea struck him. It was extremely simple, but it just might work...

He grabbed the dampened towel and hurried over to the mirror. He wiped the towel across it, clearing a space so he could see himself. Apparently, Undertaker didn't use it often.

"Though you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him..." Grell muttered, his heart fluttering slightly as he remembered the shirtless Undertaker from the night before. Break off him off a piece of that to go, please.

Smiling at his own reflection, he breathed a small sigh of thanks that the collar of his shirt covered most of the kiss marks, and only one or two were actually visible. He took the ribbon, and, with fast, practiced movements, tied a perfect bow around his neck. It hid the marks beautifully, and he grinned at his reflection. William would have to be psychic in order to see any difference at all! Grell would still be in trouble for not showing up, of course, but it would be far less than if he'd shown up covered in hickies, and his mood brightened as he realized that he'd be getting off easy.

He readjusted the blood-red jacket situated at his elbows and checked his jacket pockets to verify that the pitifully small twin death scythes were there. To his disappointment, they were in place, which meant he wouldn't be getting his own death scythe back any time soon.

Pity.

He sighed, exiting the washroom and closing the door behind him. He headed down the hall and back into the main room, boots echoing softly on the stone floor, taking one last glance around the murky place.

Undertaker wasn't back yet, but it wasn't like Grell had really been expecting him to be. Still, a little part of him had been hoping, and it was disappointed. He studied the letter, which was still lying on the floor next to the chair, from across the room. He contemplated for a minute, then sighed, shaking his head and walking toward the main door of the mortuary, leaving the letter behind and opening the door to the outside world.

There was a light drizzle falling, but it was absolutely nothing compared to the hurricane-like storm of the night before. Grell walked outside, shielding his glasses from the rain with his hand and starting off, deciding to take the back streets to be less likely to run into the mortals, which he could hardly stand on the best of days, much less a day like this. The weather meant that there was hardly anyone out as it was, but he would have to open a portal to get back to the Realm of the Shinigami, which meant that absolutely no one with mortal eyes could be around to see him. William didn't really care if mortals saw most things, as his view on it was that they were all going to die, anyway, and would find out sooner or later no matter what a Death God did. However, portals remained open for a few seconds after an immortal passed through them, and if a mortal managed to get into the Library because someone wasn't being careful, William was bound to have a stroke.

As he walked toward one of his favorite secluded places, where he most often opened a portal to return home, something nagged at the back of his mind.

_Regards, Undertaker._

_Regards..._

Grell sighed softly, feeling a familiar wave of loneliness wash over him.

Formal.

It was too formal.

Undertaker had got what he wanted, and he now wanted nothing more to do with Grell. They always did that. Afterwards, they always became so formal, so cold, because they were satisfied and wanted him gone.

Grell didn't know why he had bothered to get his hopes up; it was the same every time, Legendary Death God or no. He'd wake up alone, and sometimes there would be a note, or a small breakfast set out for him (or both, in this case) or just nothing at all. Sometimes they said he was welcome back, but coming back to visit had always yielded unsatisfactory, even painful results.

Why would this time have been any different?

"No reason..." Grell mumbled dully to himself, dropping his hand and hugging his still-tender sides. He felt like a toy, used and then tossed aside, again and again and again...

He just wanted someone who wouldn't do that. To be honest, maybe so much rejection had made him a little hasty, a little desperate... but dammit, he was still a person, he still had feelings. No one, ever, gets used to being a plaything.

He turned a street and entered a particularly darkened, secluded area, perfect for transport. Normally, he would have been a little more wary, as this was a rougher side of town, and he still looked human and vulnerable. Even if he was entirely capable of ripping apart any "dangerous" mortal with ease, even a few seconds with his back turned could mean a knife between the shoulders, which could still cause him damage, however temporary. But, right now, he was too wrapped up in his own bruised thoughts and bitter disappointment to pay proper attention.

That's why he didn't realize that he was being followed.

xxx

Now, enjoy your cliffhanger. ;)


	6. The Attack

Grell made another left, and finally made it to his destination: a large, dead-end brick wall at the far end of an alleyway, which was littered with graffiti and rubbish from rusty, overturned trashcans. It was in a poor neighborhood, and no one even lived in the buildings that made up either wall of the alley, making it very safe to open a quick portal as long as there was no rare, passing stranger around to see him.

He sighed softly, dropping his still-crossed arms and walking toward the far wall. It takes a fair amount of concentration to open a portal, and there would be plenty of time to brood later; like when William left him with three towering stacks of paper and a heavily reduced break period. He seriously needed to get his mind off of his latest deserting lover, and he also needed to get back quickly; perhaps showing up early would help ward off some of William's incoming rage. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time; 8:45. He'd have a little time to try and explain himself.

Try.

Closing his eyes, he placed both of his gloved hands against the wall. He took a deep breath and concentrated, literally trying to think his way into the Shinigami Realm. Beneath his fingers, the bricks of the wall began to soften, as though they were melting in on themselves, and started to take on a faint, blue-white glow. The glow seeped up and down the bricks, expanding until it was as tall as Grell and twice as wide, and then began to brighten as it formed the beginnings of a connection to his home Realm.

He nearly had the portal open before he sensed it.

It was directly behind him, at the end of the alley and blocking his way back to the deserted street beyond. He could feel it watching him, staring holes in his back, his shoulder blades, the back of his skull...

He snapped his eyes open and wrenched his hands from the wall, causing the half-formed portal to collapse in and disappear instantly. That force that was nagging at his Sixth Sense like a bothersome puppy could only be one thing...

Though using your Sixth Sense affected an immortal physically, the changes were slight at best. Even when the presence was very fresh and strong, an immortal would only feel small little "alarms" going off throughout their bodies, and it took an experienced immortal to use the ability to its fullest, such as to track another immortal of the same or differing species. For example, a Shinigami's presence would cause a slight, pleasantly warm feeling to whatever kin may be paying attention. A fellow Shinigami would feel small little patches of warmth across their bodies, and get a faint, familiar feeling; sort of like a watered-down version of the nostalgia one may get when looking at a long-forgotten photograph. It was an overall benevolent sensation, even if it was next to unnoticeable on a daily basis, since Shinigami were almost constantly in contact with each other. A demon sensing the presence of a fellow demon would get the same sort of sensation. However, when the two species sensed the presence of one another, they got another feeling entirely, which was only part of the reason the two hated each other so vehemently. (Mortals, however, never seemed to notice any change at all around either species, being the stupid, literally senseless beings that they were.) Though this feeling-which had the opposite affect of the warm, familiar feeling one gets in the company of kin-was just as slight, it was less common, to the point where even an up-and-coming rookie could tell the difference, since they weren't used to the sensation, and were unable to tune it out.

A cold flash seemed to race throughout Grell's body, and he gained an instant, slight case of goosebumps. A faint feeling of dread and anxiety filled him, akin to what would be felt when you enter a dark room before turning on the lights; a faint, easily-forgotten fear that was completely gone as soon as the lights were on, as it had only been slight in the first place. However, this mild fear did not disappear, or waver in the slightest. Instead, it hovered, tugging at Grell's Sixth Sense, warning him of the strong, nearby presence of a demon.

Grell slowly turned to face it, dreading to think of what he would find, but knowing that it would be there.

The figure that met his gaze was male and tall, taller than Grell, and even large enough to rival Undertaker or William, who were both six-foot-somethings and, though nimble (especially in William's case) far from weak or lanky. He was slim and dressed in dark clothes, and his face was hidden by shadow, though Grell could almost _feel_ him smirking at him. It was a smirk he knew all too well, as Sebastian had worn it often; it was the smirk of a powerful, self-assured demon who was confident in what he was about to do... whatever it may be.

"Hello," The figure said in a polite, sweet tone with a voice that was as rich and thick as honey, though Grell could have sworn that he may have heard the faintest inclination of snark in that voice. "Shinigami."

There was a slight rustle as the demon stirred, and Grell felt his back tense in apprehension, the goosebumps still on his skin, as he was paying sharp attention to his Sense and trying to figure out if it was just one demon. He only sensed the male in front of him, and it put him slightly at ease, as it meant that the odds were even. Still, just who was he, and what was he going to do next?

"Demon." Grell greeted back stiffly, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jacket and subtly grabbing both of the scissors as he did so. He was still a bit wary, as he didn't like being snuck up on like that, and he wasn't sure who this was. Could it be Sebastian? There was only a one in a million chance that it was, but still...

"Please, call me Resmodus." The voice answered calmly. The figure stepped forward, revealing a man with white-blond hair that was cut short and neat at his neck, with the bangs swept in a long, smooth wave to the right, just barely showing his right eye. His eyes were the same pink-red as all demons, and he was wearing navy slacks and a black sweater that blended in with the shadows. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his gait was calm and easy. Thick, steel-toe boots gently _thump-thumped_ toward Grell as this "Resmodus" continued forward, and Grell pressed his back against the wall nervously, eying the demon's every move.

Definitely not Sebastian.

"Grell." He answered automatically, then grimaced at his own reply. What had William told him about giving out his name so easily? He should have made something up! Shit, shit, shit... This was going from bad to worse, because he was beginning to get a feeling of dread that didn't seem to be coming from his Sixth Sense but, rather, the primal, basic instinct that even lowly humans were in possession of, as it was much, much stronger.

Something was up.

Mind whirring with nerves, Grell clutched both scissors in one hand, and then pulled his hand out of his pocket. He clasped his hands in front of him, smiling sweetly at Resmodus, doing his best to look flirty and attractive, despite being very, very wary of the stranger. Being the wonderful actress he was, he pulled it off perfectly while successfully managing to transfer one scissor to each hand, still keeping them hidden from Resmodus, just in case.

The demon chuckled lightly, and Grell felt a small bolt of fear run up his spine. Though rich and rolling, it wasn't a pleasant sound to Grell at that moment, as his nerves were jumping with the Fight or Flight instinct. It sounded like he was about to do something he was really going to enjoy, and whether or not it would be as pleasant on his end, Grell didn't know, and he didn't really feel like taking a chance and finding out.

"Ah, excellent. You know William, then? Perhaps even the old loon he's so found of, as well?" The demon asked in a polite tone that sounded rather false, finally coming face-to-face with Grell. He was handsome, certainly, as all demons who took on human forms were, and Grell couldn't help but admire his pretty face, even though his instincts were screaming at him to cut and run.

Literally.

Grell stared at him, contemplating his next answer carefully. How in the hell did this guy know William? Was he an old friend, however unlikely that was? An enemy? Maybe just someone who knew of him, but didn't actually know him? Grell had no idea, and his next answer was taking him far too long. William hated all demons, even more than the average Shinigami. Grell had never really understood why, but if a demon wanted to see him, it had to be trouble...

...Right?

Grell honestly didn't know, as the question was downright bizarre in itself, and it wasn't every day a Shinigami stopped and had a chat with its natural enemy, anyway. Normally, whenever the two species met up, they merely forgot all foreplay and started a smackdown. Talking was almost unheard of, unless it consisted of taunting the other side.

Resmodus gently placed an ungloved hand against the wall next to Grell's head, smiling down at him. It was a subtle, casual move, but Grell's heart started hammering. Resmodus wanted an answer, now, and Grell was failing to provide. Grell glanced around him, wondering whether or not he'd be able to make a dash for it. His current scythes were tools, hardly weapons like his old one, and they'd offer very little protection when he was backed against a wall by a bigger, stronger opponent like this. Grell was fast, indeed, and he could strike like a mongoose, but even though he had (before the whole Ripper incident) been one of the highest-ranking officers in the Shinigami Realm, he'd mostly gotten there through tenacity and the vicious yet highly effective way he could get his reaping done... which he'd come to find was a much harder job without his old, beloved scythe. Strength, though he had some, simply wasn't his forte, and speed couldn't help him if he was cornered, like right now. Needless to say, he was feeling quite vulnerable, and his was getting increasingly nervous by the minute.

"He's an old acquaintance of mine, though it's been... quite awhile since we've spoken." Resmodus said suddenly, as though he'd read Grell's mind. "Undertaker had just retired the last time I saw him."

Grell relaxed slightly, then nodded. Though William was very unlikely to befriend a demon, he did certainly know a few-like Sebastian-and he'd inadvertently helped a few on some very rare occasions. Like Sebastian, and...

Well, pretty much just Sebastian, and that was because the rogue angel flying every which way about the Library, killing unnecessarily and adding more to the workload, and generally just being a massive pain in the ass had been a bigger problem at the time. William had only helped because there had been something in it for him, otherwise, he would have just told the demon to crawl back under the rock he came from.

"He's my boss. He's _everyone's_ boss." Grell answered, crossing his arms sassily and cocking his hips, now feeling confident enough to flirt to his full potential. "And he hardly treats a certain poor, overworked secretary of his all that well. You should have seen the way he overreacted when she decided to have a little... _fun._ It was only a few shameless whores, afterall, the world will hardly miss them." He flicked his hair with a quick movement of his head, smiling and winking at the demon. Perhaps he could have some luck yet in the romance department...

The demon let out another low chuckle, and Grell paled slightly, tensing again and dropping his arms, a pair of scissors in plain sight in each hand. He didn't like the cold malice in that laugh. Not. At. All. His Sixth Sense was going mad at the extremely close proximity of the demon, and he was covered in goosebumps, and his instincts were now screaming at him to _run;_ run, and run fast and _far_ away.

"So, it _is_ you." Resmodus purred. Grell shuddered as he noticed Resmodus' fangs, which were four elongated canines on both the top and bottom sets of teeth. Simple, yet intimidating, as it meant that his form wasn't entirely human right now, and he was still in possession of a few demonic attributes. "I thought so. It was quite the popular story a few years back, you know..."

His breath felt cold and smelled like... _death._ Those canines clicked ominously, and Grell felt his heart hammer ever harder.

For once, it wasn't with lust.

_Run! Run run RUN!_

Before he knew what had happened, Grell felt something hard and heavy power into his throat, instantly cutting off his air supply. His head slammed back into the cruel brick, and he felt his feet left the ground entirely. He let out a sharp, rasping gasp of pure shock, his eyes locking onto the demon before him, wild with fear.

_Too late, you fool!_

Resmodus had grabbed him in the single fastest move Grell had seen since... well, _ever._ He was now hoisting him up, up, well over a foot above the ground, and his fingers were closing tighter and tighter together, until the tips met around the back of Grell's neck. Grell let out a few strangled coughs, thrashing his legs slightly in a useless attempt to free himself. However, the grip was savage, so much so that he could already feel himself bruising, and lights popped before his eyes as his need for oxygen became more and more urgent.

Grell, acting quickly, brought up the two pairs scissors before he could black out, raising them high above his head. One pair he stabbed down hard, digging them deeply, savagely into Resmodus' arm, causing a scream of surprised agony to emit from the demon. The other pair he used to slash at Resmodus' face, a triumphant grin on his lips as he heard the metal whistle through the air, fully expecting for it to severe flesh within the next half-second.

Grell's grin changed into a horrified look as Resmodus dodged with an easy flick of his head, having recovered himself incredibly quickly. Grell's scissors harmlessly grazed his hair, doing nothing more than clipping a few tiny strands and sending them fluttering through the air. All of the polite cheer had vanished from Resmodus' face, and it was now contorted in pure fury, his lips curled back and exposing his wicked canines mere inches from Grell's face. Their eyes locked, and Resmodus let out a growl so loud, so ferocious, that it vibrated the very hand that was holding Grell so high in the air. Grell could feel the power of that threat rumbling in his chest, and he thought he felt his heart skip a beat from sheer terror. He was dizzy with fear and lack of air, and his head swam as the guttural noises that emitted from the demon seemed to pound into him like a hammer.

Grell, though terrified, bared his fangs and snarled back bravely, as best he could when he was mere moments from passing out. It was a weak, choking sound, but actions speak louder than words. Bringing his arm back for another attack, he positioned his arm swiftly, intending to aim for the demon's eyes this time. Resmodus, however, was faster; he grabbed Grell's upraised arm, and, with a brutal twist, broke Grell's wrist with horrifying ease. A sickening _CRNNNCH_ and a scream of pain filled the air as Grell's scissors clattered to the ground, the fingers of his hand contorting in a surreal way and refusing to hold the tiny tool in their tangled embrace.

"That," Resmodus hissed, his canines glistening in the early-morning gloom as he somehow gripped Grell's throat tighter, causing a choked cry of pain to emit from terrified, helpless Shinigami. Grell's eyes rolled back as he fought for air, and his uninjured hand clawed at Resmodus' in a feeble attempt to loosen the grip. The demon seemed unaware, however, and Grell could do nothing but writhe weakly as he continued to choke and sputter. "Was a very, _very_ stupid move, Sutcliff."

Grell was suddenly flung, viciously, into the ground, and he bounced twice, high in the air, before he crashed down and slid several agonizing feet, finally careening haphazardly into the lefthand wall, the impact leaving him utterly winded. His hip landed on his broken wrist, and he screamed in agony, immediately rolling over to relieve the terrible pressure from the grating bones. He felt something running down his temple, and he could smell the iron-copper-rust of blood as a searing pain tore across his scalp.

Gasping for air, he rolled over and faced his opponent, who was approaching with a quick, lethal stride, his eyes absolutely murderous, his fangs bared in a scowl that held no mercy, no sympathy. Grell struggled to get to his feet, still painfully winded and stunned from the attack, and distantly wondering just how it came to be in the first place. Clutching his wounded arm to his chest, he staggered up and dashed for the end of the alley, tears of pain and utter terror blurring his eyes as he struggled to move fast enough.

He failed.

Claws, he felt actual _claws_ in his shoulders as he was suddenly wrenched back, and the sound of tearing fabric was clear in his ears. He saw, for a brief second, wicked black claws like that of a tiger's biting into his skin. Blood immediately began pooling over his shoulders, staining the snowy shirt dark crimson, filling the air with that distinctly metallic smell.

He was picked up and literally _thrown_ into the back wall once again by two terrifyingly huge, powerful hands. His entire body smashed and recoiled, agonizingly, with the impact, and a low gasp was all that he could manage as the wind was knocked savagely from his body for the second time in less than a minute. He heard something crack, and plaster from the wall above rained down on his head like sharp, brittle snow. He knew, then, that the wall had cracked and spiderwebbed from the sheer force of his body being thrown into it, and that his body may not be quite whole anymore, either.

He crumpled instantly, falling in a bright red heap at the foot of the wall, too stunned to even focus his eyes. He heard, faintly and far away, a mocking, demonic cackle, and he cried out weakly as the steel toe of a heavy boot slammed into his side, bruising his body, forcing him to roll over.

Resmodus leered over him, eyes dangerous, glowing, pink-red slits. He held Grell's bloodied scissors in his hand, and a few thick rivulets of blood dripped from the fingers of his injured arm, which was hanging limply at his side.

"You are so _very _lucky that I was ordered to keep you alive." He said in a mock-sweet voice, though there was an obvious bitterness in the last note of it. Grell shook his head blearily, struggling to clear it as the demon continued. "I came to deliver a message."

_Get up! Get up!_ His mind screamed. _Dammit Grell, get up and defend yourself!_

Grell struggled up again, but only managed to get to his hands and knees this time. His undamaged hand supported him, the other held at his chest like a child. He glared at Resmodus dangerously, panting and delicately wiping some blood from his lip with his injured arm, making the nerves ring with pain. He could hear his back cracking with every movement, and several bones creaked and groaned, stiff and stunned from the beating. It felt as though he were falling apart...

The boot that collided with his face had no mercy. It was hard, fast, and sent him slamming back into the wall yet again, making it crack like an eggshell once more. His glasses shattered, and Grell screamed in complete and utter agony as the lenses exploded into his eyes, completely blinding him. He felt something hot and wet pouring down his face, and as the coppery-tasting liquid dripped into his mouth, he realized to his acute horror that he was bleeding. _Badly._

A mad, hair-raising cackle tore through the alley as Grell's sobs of pain rent the air. He was completely blinded, both by blood and by pain, and utterly helpless to the demon's next move. Whatever happened next was now completely out of his control, as he was blind, wounded, and in so much pain that every jerking sob that left him felt sent electric-like bolts of pain throughout his entire body.

He'd never felt so scared, so helpless, and so utterly alone in his entire life.

"However, they didn't specify that I couldn't do anything else..." The cruel voice above him crooned, obviously amused with the battered Shinigami's low wails of pain. Grell could tell from the direction of his voice that he was right in front of him, and he tensed in terror, just hoping that whatever happened next would be quick and as painless as possible.

Grell heard Resmodus kneel before him, and he felt heavy hands on his blood-wet shoulders, irritating the claw-wounds there. His terror broadened to overwhelming proportions as he felt one of those wickedly curved claws stroke his hip, and then turned to fury as the claw started tugging at the hem of his pants. No! _NO!_ He'd be _damned_ if he'd stand by and let this happen!

With a strength born of pure desperation, he lunged forward and bit down as hard as he could as soon as his lips brushed the object before him. He received a sharp yowl of pain in response to his efforts, and he knew he'd made his mark. He didn't know where he had latched on, but he felt the hot blood spurt into his mouth, filling it with the sickening metallic taste, and he knew that he wasn't letting go if he could help it.

Resmodus screeched again as Grell slammed his head back and forth like an animal, those shark-like teeth sawing into his flesh with every vicious, wrenching movement. Grell had latched firmly onto his shoulder, and blood was now pouring down Resmodus' entire front, soaking his clothes as he was ripped to the bone. Furious, Resmodus howled his rage and drug those wickedly sharp claws down Grell's back again and again, causing wide pools of blood to form and flow heavily, spattering to the ground with a wet, sickening noise. Grell only grunted in pain and bit harder, increasing the force of his ferocious attack as he continued to thrash back and forth violently, beginning to crack the bone beneath his teeth. Out of utter desperation to get those razor-blade teeth _out, _Resmodus, snarling with rage and agony, turned and slammed himself, shoulder-and Grell-first, into the ground, using the very cobblestones beneath them as a weapon.

Grell's grip weakened instantly, and, two brutal blows later, he fell away, bleeding massively from his head and back, blood the color of his hair pooling out around him. Resmodus pulled back his fist and struck several more harsh blows around Grell's face and neck, and Grell cried out weakly and curled into a ball, trying to shield himself, but far too battered to do anything but lie there.

"I really don't give a damn what they think, _trash,_ you crossed a line." Resmodus hissed venomously. Grell felt a rough, heavy kick meet his ribs, and the blow made him roll onto his back, the sound of his cracking ribs the only thing that he could hear. His pain was blinding, overwhelming, and he was unable to so much as even make a sound anymore as he lay, gasping weakly and soaked in blood that was mostly his own. This displeased Resmodus greatly, who wanted nothing more than to make the damned Shinigami scream and beg for mercy even more.

Grell heard him kneel again, felt that icy breath on his face, and that cold voice whispered in his ear, sending a faint tremble of fear through his weakened body; so very faint and weak that it was hardly even noticeable to the enraged demon.

"Your friends won't even get a verbal warning now. Oh no no, they'll get _you."_ Resmodus chuckled darkly, his very voice dripping poison. "My message is simply this, Sutcliff: _We are coming."_

Before he could even contemplate those sinister words, Grell felt something sharp, horribly, horribly sharp and jagged and painful tear deep into his chest, sending a pain he'd never thought possible radiating through every nerve in his body. He screamed with what little strength he had left, and Resmodus kicked him again, knocking the wind out of him yet again and causing ribs to crack and bruise even more severely, to the point where Grell was sure, for the briefest second, that he felt one break.

Grell jerked convulsively, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth as he gasped for air like a fish out of water. The pain, the rending, tearing pain finally took over, and turned into a thick black haze that settled over Grell like a fog of death. His thoughts clouded, and his bloodied eyes slid closed as his breath, his pulse, his very life force weakened, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Resmodus scowled darkly, clutching his destroyed shoulder and trying to stem the flow of blood, which was still pouring down and splashing wetly against the ground. Grell had severed nerves, tendons, and probably even put a tear in his artery. This was going to be an awkward thing to explain to the boss...

"You're no fun." He whined like a petulant child, giving the battered bundle that was Grell one last, harsh kick, his scowl somehow darkening further when Grell made no noise at all, and merely rolled onto his side. "You can't even feel anything when you're out like that!"

Muttering darkly to himself, he turned on his heel and walked back down the alleyway, wondering how he was going to hide the massive wound from the other demons until he could heal himself. How utterly embarrassing. He was never going to hear the end of it.

Grell, bloodied, battered, and beaten, lay crumpled on the ground, his own death scythe plunged into his chest. His breaths were weak and gurgled with blood, and his heartbeat was growing fainter every minute as he continued to bleed out massively, his skin paling as the bright crimson continued to flow.

His time was rapidly running out.

xxx

Oh no, poor Grell. D8 Sorry for the OC, but it's essential for the coming plot, and I promise he won't be slashed with any canon characters.

Sorry for the second cliffhanger, this one has to be worse. XD Rest assured there will be another post tomorrow, though, I'm just brimming with plot ideas!


	7. The Find

To be frank, he was getting tired of Grell's crap.

William checked his silver pocket watch again; 9:30. Grell would usually be passed out on a couch at the library right now, too tired from his late shifts to even make it to his room, and William would usually wake him up by unceremoniously dropping his latest assignment on his head. Normally, it would be a large stack of papers (which Grell would then have to sort, complete, and file) or, if William was in a good mood, he'd give Grell a few names in his Death Ledger.

But, William was not in a good mood.

Grell had not even bothered to return to the library the night before, meaning the time table had been screwed up, meaning William had even more work to do in order to sort it out, _meaning _that he was going to kick Grell's ass.

Then, of all things, Grell had the gall to not even show up for work this morning. He'd done this a few times before, and William had the feeling that he would, once again, receive a whiny, half-assed excuse that would make him want to smack the nearest idiot.

Namely, Grell.

So, William was absolutely _fuming_ and preparing his pimp hand as he crossed the rain-slick rooftops of mid-morning London. There was hardly a soul (pardon the pun) out, as the air was particularly chilly, and it was raining (as per usual), so William really didn't have to worry about any pesky mortals nagging at him and demanding to know why a suit-clad man with strange eyes was running across the rooftops. However, he was still keen on avoiding any further delays that a nosy human might impose, and took the proper steps to prevent them. Every time he passed a human, he subtly tossed a coins or two in their general direction, and they would instantly look to see what had just fallen and/or immediately bend to collect the spoils. By the time they'd look up again, William would be long gone. It worked every time, and no one stopped or even appeared to notice him, allowing him to keep on schedule without any sort of hindrance.

For once.

Finally, he reached his destination and, fleet-footed as any deer could hope to be, he crossed the last few rooftops without a hitch. The skull-and-crossbones of the Undertaker's shop leered at him, and he almost smiled when he saw the familiar place.

_Almost._

He landed on the top of the large, stone skull, just as a very familiar bundle of drapes turned the corner, pushing a trolley that was cradling a large, closed casket. Apparently, whoever was contained inside had been quite girthy, as even the deceivingly strong Undertaker was having a bit of trouble wheeling the trolley over the rough, bumpy cobblestones, and the casket was easily one of the biggest ones William had ever seen.

William cleared his throat loudly, and the man pushing the trolley looked up instantly, his neck snapping up so fast that it was a wonder that his hat remained in place.

The quizzical expression written across Undertaker's face quickly changed into one of pleasant surprise as he recognized the person atop his mortuary, and he waved a near-frantic greeting, seeming quite happy to see him, indeed.

Undertaker had left at about 4 a.m., when the storm had finally ceased enough to make traveling possible. He'd regretted leaving Grell alone, but he didn't want to wake him after their... physical labor, so to speak. He had left extra-early just to try and make it back before Grell woke up, but he was just now returning, deceased duchess in tow, and he wasn't expecting to come home to a full shop, as the whale of a woman had been quite a bit more trouble than he'd expected. Regardless, seeing William there both surprised and amused him, of course, because it wasn't who he was expecting... no, _hoping _to be there.

"William!" He greeted enthusiastically, setting the handles of the trolley on the ground with a grateful look and bustling over, his arms spread wide in gleeful welcome. "What a nice surprise!"

"Hello, Undertaker." William greeted a tad curtly, jumping from the skull and landing easily on his feet, dusting off his shoulder as he landed. "It has certainly been awhile."

"Too long, old friend!" Undertaker crooned, wrapping William in a smothering, overzealous hug as soon as he was close enough to grab the slightly smaller man's suit. William gasped around the overlarge cloak threatening to smother his face, and struggled a hand free with some difficulty. He reached around and patted his back, feeling awkward and out of place in such a position.

"What brings you by?" Undertaker asked, pulling away but leaving one arm, which was heavy with clothing, still wrapped tightly around William's shoulders. "Have you finally decided that you crave a friendly visit instead of a formal meeting?" He asked, tapping William on the nose in a rather condescending way, the note in his voice not even bothering to make the hint subtle.

William coughed into his hand, feeling twice as awkward as he had before and averting his eyes in embarrassment. "I'm looking for Mr. Sutcliff." He said simply, fiddling with his glasses to hide his embarrassment. "I know from the names I'd given him in his Death Ledger that he would have been in the area."

Undertaker barked a laugh, pulling away from William just as suddenly as he'd embraced him, not seeming a bit surprised, though his tone was faintly bitter. "Ah, of course not. You were never one to drop the formalities, were you? Business, business, business! Nothing else!"

"I'm working, Undertaker. I'm sure you can empathize when I say that I take my job seriously."

Undertaker turned, leaned forward, grinned, his top hat tilting jauntily as he moved, his typical, crescent-shaped grin slopped across his face. William felt himself leaning back slightly, and for once, he didn't auto-correct his posture. Despite being an old and good friend and a very, _very_ accomplished employee in earlier years, Undertaker had always managed to weird him out, just a little, from time to time.

Not that he would have admitted that. Not even at gunpoint.

"I take almost nothing seriously, William." Undertaker chided, chucking William under the chin playfully with one sharp nail, smirking when he saw William cringe the slightest amount. "It's part of what forced me into retirement, you know, that nonsense of taking everything seriously, and never thinking outside the rules." He giggled maniacally, and William felt the hair on the back of his neck raise, just a little bit; not because of Undertaker himself, but because of the subject he was hinting at. "Besides, all work and no play makes _William_ a _very_ dull boy."

"I'm well aware." William answered smoothly, voice not giving away the fact that he was now getting uncomfortable in the slightest. "But, that's beside the point. Have you seen Sutcliff within the last twenty-four hours?"

"Oh, _indeed._ He stayed the night, actually." Undertaker giggled mischievously, leaning against the wall of his building arms crossed over his chest. "It was a pleasant visit. He's a very _enjoyable _guest, really."

William felt his eye twitch, and he pushed up his glasses to hide any reaction he might've shown. He had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what the Undertaker was getting at, and he'd _really_ rather not think about it.

"Is he here?" William asked curtly, dearly wishing that the elder Shinigami would change the subject. Reaching into his jacket and pulling out his ledger, he began to read. "He should really get started on the thirty three reports and five soul reapings he owes me, as they're due by noon."

Behind his bangs, Undertaker gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. So, William was _still _getting Grell back for the Jack the Ripper incident, nearly two years later. Undertaker couldn't help but be a bit biased towards Grell's side of things, as the attacks had given him several very interesting customers, and the whole fiasco had been quite fun to watch. He couldn't remember being so amused with his work for quite a long time.

"I just got back from fetching a customer, so I'm not sure." Undertaker chirped cheerily, bustling over and opening the door to his shop. He poked his head inside and called out "Greeeeeeeellllllllll~?"

He wasn't surprised when he didn't get an answer, or when he saw that Grell's clothes were missing and the food was gone, with no sign of the reaper at all, though he had to admit that he was quite disappointed. However, he put on a smile, as always, and turned back to William, not looking any different than normal.

"As I expected, he's departed." Undertaker answered, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I'm surprised he's not at the library, actually. What time is it?"

"I'm not surprised." William snorted, closing his book with a prompt _snap! _and reaching into his pocket, pulling out the watch again. "However, it's imperative that he arrive at the office as soon as possible, as it's exactly 9:42. We're overworked and understaffed, as usual." He said, his usual frown getting just the slightest bit more pronounced. "It hasn't been quite the same since-"

"Since I left, yes, yes. I've heard it all before." The Undertaker sighed, a small note of irritation in his voice. "But I'm afraid that I have no desire to return, William, even if circumstances have improved. I enjoyed my work before, but I enjoy it even more now, as odd as that may sound. Though at the time of my retirement I was less than keen on the idea of quitting and working with the deads' bodies instead of their souls, I'm completely satisfied now. I'm happy here."

_Obviously, because you never stop laughing._ William almost smiled again as the fond thought crossed his mind, even though a tiny, tiny part said something that he dearly wished not to hear. Still, he almost smiled.

_Almost._

Damn, he must be getting soft.

"Very well, but the offer is always open, you know."

"Of course."

William adjusted his glasses again, more out of habit than necessity. "I suppose I should get moving, then. Time waits for no man; or Shinigami."

Undertaker glanced back at the casket, then at William, then back at the casket, then shrugged to himself. He grabbed the trolley and wheeled it inside (with some obvious difficulty), disappearing through the doors without another word.

William took this as his signal to leave, and he turned to go, tensing his muscles to spring to the top of the Undertaker's shop once again. He was honestly quite surprised when the Undertaker suddenly rushed back out, a grin plastered across his scarred face, and allowed himself the faintest raise of an eyebrow.

"Allow me to join you, dear William." Undertaker said eagerly, springing lightly to the top of his shop, perching on the skull with nothing but his toes. "Things have been a little slow lately, and I have no work today besides attending to the duchess. I'd be happy to assist you in finding Grell."

William's eyebrow tracked a little further toward his hairline, but he made no immediate comment. He jumped high, joining Undertaker on the top of the building with the gentle _click-tmp_ of his well-kept shoes meeting shingles. He honestly couldn't help but wonder why the Undertaker had taken enough interest in Grell to actually stop work and help look for him; normally, whenever he had someone "staying the night", they left, and he didn't really bother asking more than a question or two about them, before clamming up entirely. Perhaps Grell had caused him some sort of trouble; William certainly wouldn't have put it past him.

Or let him get away with it.

"Very well, Undertaker. Thank you for the assistance." He said, offering a small bow of thanks as soon as he was positive that he had his footing.

"No matter." Undertaker said with a dismissive wave of his hand, hopping to the next building and perching like a jaybird on the tip of the slanted roof. "I am sure that you know where Grell prefers to transfer?"

"Naturally." William said, springing to the building Undertaker was on, then across three more within a single second.

He was not surprised at all to see Undertaker next to him in no time at all, the usual Chesire grin on his face as he seemingly tailed casually along. The retired Shinigami was keeping up easily, and William held back a smile.

He hadn't changed at all.

Undertaker giggled, so softly that William almost missed it, and suddenly hopped several buildings ahead, clearly showing off. William immediately increased his pace, determined not to be outdone, and doing his best to keep up. Doggedly, Undertaker sped up again, keeping ahead of William with ease.

Nope, not a bit.

Undertaker slowed slightly, letting William catch up just a bit, then sped up again, goading him into a race. William, despite his best efforts, found himself taking on the challenge as he increased his stride and glanced over at the Undertaker, returning the challenge with a blink of his sharp, yellow-green eyes.

They began a race across the rooftops, Undertaker with a happy smile, William with a staunch, determined frown on his lips. The more experienced Undertaker was winning, naturally, but William refused to let him make a fool out of him, even in something as simple as a race. William was, afterall, Undertaker's replacement.

He had standards to live up to, and some very big shoes to fill.

It's best not to give or take any slack in the reigns when you're following in the footsteps of a legend.

He was just musing over this once again when Undertaker suddenly stopped dead.

William, too caught up both in the race and in his own thoughts, slammed into him and landed on his ass, ungracefully sliding several feet back and nearly falling off the roof of the building in the process. Undertaker didn't budge from the impact.

Hell, he didn't even glance at him, or seem to notice at all.

William picked himself up, flustered and extremely embarrassed, his head ducked to hide the faint flush on his cheeks. He dusted of his suit, frowning hard and trying to look like he had somehow meant to do that.

So much for standards.

"It's common courtesy to tell someone before you st-"

_"William."_

William stopped dead.

The Undertaker had an edge in his voice that William hadn't heard in well over two centuries. It was very far from the gleeful, supposedly insane mortician that he usually sounded like. It was far from his commanding, dominating, yet somehow still friendly, playful voice he used when he was giving someone a friendly warning.

He hadn't used that voice since he was a registered Shinigami officer.

No.

The word "officer" didn't do him justice.

He had been a warrior, plain and true, his scars were testament enough to that, and he'd always had a commanding edge to his voice that made everyone listen, instantly, no matter what rank they held or opinion they had. William had always severely envied that trait, and to this day, it was one thing he still couldn't figure out about Undertaker; how someone as innocent-looking as he was could be able to command an entire army with just that voice if he truly wanted.

Or how he'd even gotten it in the first place. William didn't understand that, either.

He dearly wished he did, though.

Now, for some reason, that voice, that _edge,_ was back. That voice, that nearly God-like tone, had reappeared out of nowhere after over two hundred years of lying dormant.

"S-sir?"

William blinked in honest shock as the word stuttered from his mouth.

That voice... it had just that much of an effect. It had drug William back to the rank of that tittering, easily intimidated lackey he had been centuries ago. Dammit, he'd fought long and hard to rise above that, and he really didn't appreciate being drug back down to that level so suddenly, by something so deceptively simple.

If Undertaker hadn't been using that voice, he might've actually been a little bit angry.

"Call the medical team." Undertaker said, his voice hoarse with shock and low with that edge, that edge William so dearly wished he had, even if it evoked a healthy amount of fear in him every time he heard it.

William finally looked over Undertaker's shoulder then, finding his source of interest, and his eyes widened like saucers.

They were perched atop the building to the right of Grell's preferred transfer wall, and Grell lay against the wall opposite, completely still and silent. William had to admit; he hadn't seen so much blood since the Jack the Ripper cases over two years ago, and he hadn't even _been_ on the scene to handle those. All he'd scene were photographs in the reports.

But this...

This was here, and now, wasn't it?

Grell lay with his back to them, but William could see the large pool of blood about his head, and how his shimmering crimson hair was now knotted with it as it began to dry. There were wide streaks of blood here and there on the ground, pooling about the crevices in the cobblestones, and the wall directly below them was cracked, with blood spattered across its entire surface like macabre paint.

Undertaker was on the ground within the span of a heartbeat, an intimidating black-and-gray blur of action. William, stunned into silence, followed, not quite knowing what to do for the first time in a very long time, indeed.

Undertaker gingerly rolled Grell onto his back, and though he'd seen many, many gruesome things during his time as a mortician, what he saw made his stomach lurch and heave, nearly making him sick.

The sight of Grell's own scissors embedded in his chest stirred a horrid feeling of _Deja Vu _and complete and utter dread in Undertaker's stomach. The last time he'd seen something like this, he'd been forced to quit, among other things. The all-too familiar method before him drudged up some very unpleasant memories, and his heart immediately began to slam with panic.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening..._

Fearing what he would find, he extended two fingers and placed them, as gently as a feather's brush, against Grell's neck.

He was honestly shocked to feel a pulse. It was faint, weak, and slow, threatening to stop at any minute, but it was there, definitely, and it meant Grell still had a chance.

However small it may be.

_"William!"_ Undertaker barked. William jumped a mile, startled out of his speechless staring at Grell's mangled body. He, too, had seen this before, at the exact same time as Undertaker, and under the exact same circumstances. He was just as horrified as the retired Shinigami, if not even more so.

At least Undertaker was able to quit afterwards.

For him, everything had just begun.

_"I told you to get the medical team."_

"Sir!" William answered, shaken out of his stupor and, quite frankly, frightened almost out of his wits by how Undertaker was now growling orders at him. He kept his cool, however, and bowed deeply to the silver-haired Shinigami; something he hadn't done in years. He approached the wall opposite, turning his back to them, doing his best to clear his mind so he could form a portal.

It wasn't easy.

Undertaker gingerly picked up Grell as William somehow managed to open a portal, causing light to flood the alley for a brief second and starkly illustrate Grell's battered features. He swallowed a knot in his throat as William disappeared into the next Realm, seeking help as was so asked of him.

Being a mortician required a very strong stomach, but Undertaker felt absolutely and utterly sickened by Grell's condition in a way that he'd never experienced on the job. He assessed Grell's injuries with a mere glance, his expertise telling him everything: massive head trauma and the high probability of a bad concussion, broken wrist, multiple lacerations all over his body, injuries to his eyes where his glasses had apparently shattered, and, worst of all, the death scythe buried into his chest. Gently, he reached over and pulled the scissors out, feeling bile rise in his throat as blood began to leak sluggishly out of the wound.

It was too much like what had happened before.

It was exactly like what had happened before.

_This can't be happening, this can't be happening..._

He raised his head, looking at the wall and silently pleading for William and the medical team to appear. To take Grell and make him okay, to make everything okay. To do him a mercy and wake him up, because this had to be a nightmare.

_This isn't happening. This can't be happening._

It was then that he saw it.

There, on the wall that Grell had lain before, was a message written in blood.

_We are coming._

"...It's happening." He whispered to himself, desperately wishing he was wrong.

But knowing that he wasn't.

xxx

Sorry for the second cliff hanger, but I guess that's how I keep you interested, right? lol


	8. Chain of Command

"All available medical staff follow me. Reapers, to your work as usual, but be very cautious when operating in London, Area 34, Section 2. I want everyone on office duty to drop what they're doing and pull up whatever they can on the Swarm of 1568. _Move!"_

No one questioned William as he barked orders from atop the grand oak desk at the of the library, just in front of the great staircase that lead to the second floor. Shinigami of all ranks and positions were hurrying to and fro wherever he looked, and he narrowed his eyes at anyone who dared slow down, or even glance up at him, further increasing the pace of them all.

Hm, maybe he _did_ have a bit of that edge.

The complete medical squad of eight was there in three seconds, and William nodded to them all, leaping from the desk and bounding toward the main doors of the Library. Sensing William's urgency, they squabbled amongst themselves as they tripped and fell over each other in their haste to follow, none of them wishing to be the last in line. When William reached the wall adjacent to the doors, and the bickering not only continued, but got _worse_, he turned and glared severely at them, voice an icy hiss.

_"Enough."_

Dead silence reigned as everyone in the Library immediately stopped and stared at him, many of them paling at the sight of the obviously ruffled Head Shinigami. The medical team was reduced to a quivering group of frightened, child-like Death Gods who were staring at him as though he were Satan. All the orders had come in quite suddenly, and many didn't know or only had a vague idea of what was going on, but no one _dared_ to cross William whenever he was _this_ uptight.

"Well? Who told you all to stop?" He barked, voice as sharp and lashing as any bullwhip.

Chaos exploded as everyone instantly began to rush around like chickens with their heads cut off. Shouts rang across the place as confused workers began to argue about what to do next and just how to do it, and arguments blossomed everywhere. Somewhere toward the back of the Library, a cloud of papers went up as someone fell down one of the smaller side staircases that flanked the main set of stairs.

William rested his head in his hand, doing his very, very best not to lose his already-strained temper. The medical team took several cautious steps back, fully anticipating an explosion that would rival that of Vesuvius.

William took a deep, slow breath. His voice was dangerously low and calm, like a roll of thunder just before a massive storm.

"Let's go. Let's just go. We can sort this mess out once we take care of the more urgent matter at hand."

He placed his hands against the wall, and sixteen more joined his without a second of hesitation. Together, they all formed one massive, oblong portal, and they phased through into the alley, medical gear and all.

Undertaker looked up gratefully as they finally arrived, and he stood from where'd he'd been kneeling, Grell still carefully cradled in his arms. His crimson tresses brushed the ground, stiff and beginning to tangle as the blood spread throughout them dried. His chest heaved weakly as he fought for every breath, every heartbeat, and it seemed as if it would stop at any second.

The entire medical team let up a cry of shock, and one nurse covered her mouth with her hands in an effort to stifle a sob. They'd seen many accidents, many injuries, and a good deal of them had been caused due to scuffles between officers and demons. But none of them had _ever_ seen anything like this done to one of their own, and it was utterly heartbreaking for them to witness.

William nodded to Undertaker, who swept over without a word, as his emotions didn't need to be conveyed through language; they were already written all over his face.

The team, recognizing who was in their presence, all stopped what they were doing and bowed deeply; William had always, always, _always_ instructed them to do so, and no one was going to upset either of the two higher-ranking Shinigami at a time like this.

"Enough of that." Undertaker said, gently but firmly, and they all straightened their backs and nodded in quiet obedience. Two of them somberly lowered a stretcher, their expressions pinched and strained with worry as Undertaker knelt before it and delicately placed Grell down.

Undertaker smoothed a concerned hand over Grell's cheek, and William looked away, pretending not to notice. He wasn't quite sure why Undertaker was so concerned-besides the obvious reasons surrounding the attack; namely, the _"Is it what I think?" _and _"Why?"_ factors-and it both intrigued and bothered him. But, it wasn't really any of his business, anyway. If Undertaker had chosen a particular favorite out of his many one-night stands, he shouldn't have a reason to care, much less intervene.

He just didn't want Undertaker to worry.

William had it under control. He had everything under control, as always. Things looked bad now, but it had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way his fears would be realized. Not about something like this.

Regardless, he just didn't want him to worry.

After a long, quiet moment, Undertaker slowly rose to his feet, and the team hefted the stretcher and quickly headed back toward the wall from whence they had came. William followed, nodding at the Undertaker to come along, if he so desired... which, of course he would, considering what was going on.

"We'll need to get someone out here to clean this." He said gravely as Undertaker fell in step behind them without the slightest sign of hesitation. "I'll get Maintenance on it."

Undertaker simply nodded distractedly, his eyes fixated on Grell's limp form. As they approached the wall, two of the free-handed medical staff linked arms with those who were carrying either forward end Grell's stretcher. As they placed their hands against the wall and phased through, the stretcher, Grell, and the four who were carrying it were all brought along, as the portal had no problem staying open, so long as someone was passing through. Undertaker followed them, William and the two remaining staff members in front of him. His mind was utterly hollow from shock. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? And why? Why was this even happening? He mulled it over sullenly as their shoes touched the cool tile of the Library, signaling their arrival home.

Perhaps, history truly _did _repeat itself. He'd always wondered before, had always seen little scraps of evidence that it did, but now, he was fairly sure that something was about to come full circle.

Once again, he dearly wished for something to prove him wrong.

The Library, if it had been in chaos before, was now a total riot.

Everywhere around them, Shinigami were beating the sense out of each other. A reaper who had a secretary in a headlock stumbled past them, swearing at the top of his lungs as he gave the poor girl what looked like a very painful noogie. A chair flew at them, and Undertaker's neck snapped up as he heard it whistling through the air. He ducked just in time to avoid getting his face smashed and, instead, the chair took his hat off. Behind his bangs, his eyes very nearly grew to the size of saucers.

"Well, this isn't good..." He said lowly, slowly rising to his feet again as he patted the top of his head, checking for any injuries and, thankfully, finding nothing more than some ruffled hair.

William was as pale as a bleached ghost who'd been bled to death. He stood ramrod-straight, unable to move as his employees continued to thoroughly destroy the aura of peace and security he'd been so strictly enforcing ever since he got into office. His left eye began to twitch uncontrollably as his mind reached overload.

"Enough."

No one heard him, and nothing stopped. For some odd reason, a roll of toilet paper flew through the air and bounced off of his head.

_Twitch twitch._

_"Enough."_

A few nearby Shinigami paused, then resumed their brawls, clearly too caught up in the moment to care about their orders, or the punishments that would ensue when they weren't followed.

_Twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch._

_"IF YOU LOT DON'T STOP THIS INSTANT, I'LL FIRE EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU AND SEND YOU BACK TO YOUR ROOMS WITH JAM JARS SHOVED UP YOUR NOSES."_

Shocked silence reigned.

William's heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His teeth were clenched and bared, and his fists were balled at his sides. His eye was still twitching at intervals, and his hair was askew.

The entire medical staff were leaning away from him, half of them very nearly in tears. Undertaker was leaning away a little as well, a small, very surprised frown upon his face as he stared at his companion as though he'd sprouted wings for ears. This was the first time in a _long_ time he'd seen William flip his lid.

The last time William had been this stressed, the punishments that he'd dished out had made Grell's current, insane assignments look like a cakewalk.

William took a deep, long breath and readjusted his glasses, smoothing his hair back with his hands. His eyes were closed, and his face suddenly took on a look of utter calm.

Deceiving calm.

The sort of calm that comes before a massive, terrifying storm.

"Medical team, please get Mr. Sutcliff up to the infirmary immediately. Undertaker, feel free to go with them. I'll deal with these _imbeciles." _He said, voice low and even, though the last word was a hiss.

The medical team was up the stairs and inside the tiny, hospital-like room above and to the right as fast as they possibly could have been with Grell in tow. Undertaker grabbed his hat and dusted it off as he quickly followed after them, his face grim once more. The many eyes of the multitude of employees widened as they realized who was in their presence, and an aura of shame flooded the Library, so thick and suffocating that no one even bowed their heads as they normally would have, lest it be taken as a sign of sarcastic mockery and disrespect.

Undertaker ignored them all, and closed the door behind him quietly. A grim smile crossing his lips as William's irate ranting began in earnest on the floor below, so loud that it could be heard, muffled though it was, through the soundproof door of the infirmary. He replaced his hat on his head, silently approaching the surgical table where the medical team was just now placing Grell.

Grell's condition, despite the short delay, had, somehow, not worsened. However, it had certainly not gotten any better, and Undertaker watched his weakly heaving chest with apprehension, expecting the worst to occur any second.

"Allow me to help." He said quietly, causing the team to look up at him in surprise. "I am in a profession where putting people back together is standard, afterall."

A few weak smiles met him, and he struggled to return them as he moved to prepare himself for the strenuous task of stitching Grell's many wounds.

He, for once, was simply not in the mood to laugh.

Meanwhile, back downstairs, William was having the time of his life.

He hadn't had an excuse to act rashly in years, and smacking around his inferiors was just what he needed at that moment. It was very rare for him to do so to such an extent, and it was utterly unheard of for him to e_ver_ abuse his power. He really did care for his officers (even if no one believed it, as he never really seemed to show it) but, sometimes, the Shinigami needed to be reminded who was boss.

Now was one of those times.

_"Now,"_ he barked, hauling a quivering office worker off of a maintenance man, a small, shrill squeak emitting from the unfortunate secretary as William replaced him none-too-gently on the ground, glaring at his back as he scurried off into the crowd. "Did I speak another language? Did I _stutter?_ Did I give _any _indication _at all _that what you just did was acceptable _in the least_ at _any_ time _whatsoever?"_

Roughly a hundred and fifty assorted Shinigami all lowered their eyes and shuffled their feet as the lead Shinigami before them continued to rant.

"Do you realize who was just in here to see your behavior? It was a very near and dear friend of mine, as well as one of the most important people you sniveling whelps will _ever_ have the honor of setting eyes on! That was no one but the Undertaker himself, do you understand me?" He snarled, gesturing toward a grand, honorary marble statue of Undertaker from his Shinigami days*. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times; you _always _respect that man, because without him, this Library would be _nothing_ like it is today, if it was here _at all!"_

More ashamed shuffling, and a few mumbles as many of them lowered their heads in humiliation, flinching as though they expected to be struck every time William uttered a particularly sharp syllable.

William searched the crowd briefly, then locked eyes on his target; one in particular who he had quite a bone to pick with. Wordlessly, he stalked toward the Shinigami who had thrown the chair at Undertaker, his eyes flashing with near-malice. The officer, realizing what was about to happen, cowered back as William reached him, whimpering a rapid, incoherent apology. William, unphased, grabbed the back of the unfortunate Shinigami's shirt and hauled him into the air.

_"You," _he rumbled like a lion, hiding a smirk of satisfaction as the Shinigami flinched and bunched up in fear like a scolded puppy. "You had the gall to throw a _chair_ at the Undertaker! A _CHAIR!"_

Several subdued gasps rang out, and everyone stared with bated breath, many sincerely worried for the health of the subordinate firmly clasped in William's hand. William shook the Shinigami lightly, causing a whimper to rise from him as he was jostled about in mid-air.

"I have no words! _None!_ You are just one of the many, _many _people here who have brought extreme shame to both I and this fine establishment we call our workplace! Of all days... Undertaker came back to visit for the first time in a year and a half, and you greet him like _this!_ By throwing chairs and rioting when I leave for _three minutes?" _William snarled, dropping the Shinigami on his rear and turning to face the rest of them, ignoring the yelp that the poor soul emitted. "I am the one who took over his position! I am the one who is expected to keep this place running like clockwork! I can't say how _ashamed_ I am of _each and every one of you_ for making me look like a _fool_ who can't run his own workplace, especially in front of someone like _Undertaker!"_

"We're sorry, Sir..." The unanimous rumble echoed softly through the Library as the Shinigami mumbled their apologies to the floor. William snorted and crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed and still highly agitated.

"'Sorry' doesn't make my tea. Now, let's try this again. Reapers, carry on with your soul-reaping duties, but take caution in Area 34, Section 2 of London. _However,_ do not skip your work there, though I ask that you work in pairs if you can. Office personnel, drop all the assigned work given to you earlier, no matter what it may have been, and dig up anything that even _mentions_ something called The Swarm of 1568. I know that for anyone who is aware of it that it is not a pleasant topic to discuss, but we may be facing a crisis and information is _invaluable_ at this time. Also, maintenance personal need to head back to the alley that I just returned from and clean up the mess they find there. It's imperative that not a single drop of blood is left, and that anything you find out of the ordinary is brought to me."

Everyone was beginning to stir, and William allowed himself a small, tight smile of satisfaction. He quickly quelled it, however, and held up a hand commandingly, not wishing to lose the control he just gained back.

"I've not yet finished."

The Library went as still as a grave.

"As some of you may have seen just now, Grell Sutcliff was attacked and severely injured while on duty. While I will not release details now, Mr. Sutcliff is alive, but in unstable health, so we need peace and quiet on the upper floors to allow the medical team to do their jobs and help Mr. Sutcliff to the best of their abilities. As some of you may have guessed by this point, it occurred in Area 34, Section 2 of London, and his assailant may still be in the area. Again, as I c_annot _stress this enough, take extreme caution and try to travel in pairs, and report any suspicious activity to me immediately. Now, to your jobs!"

The entire office went back into motion instantly. The lone Shinigami that William had singled out got up, bowing hastily and apologizing profusely as he backed away from his superior, seemingly not having enough words in the English language to convey his message. William growled at him, softly, showing that he was through with the Shinigami and wanted to hear nothing else, and the man immediately squeaked and ran off to his work. William allowed himself another tiny smirk, though it was tight and lacking in any humor, and he was so strained that he could hardly stand to be proud of himself now, anyway.

He turned on his heel and headed for his office, smile fading as his mind once again flew into overdrive.

He needed tea.

xxx

Sorry if this chapter was a bit shorter than the others. ;w; I'm so grateful for the many great reviews I've gotten, and I simply adore you all for the lovely encouragement. 3

* Also, this is a canon fact. If you look in episode 18 of the first season, William nearly hits Grell with his death scythe as they enter the library. For a brief second, you can see a statue of the Undertaker in all his smexy glory. XD


	9. I Won't Let Go

The world was dark. Very, very dark. Darker than he'd ever seen before.

And it was a world made of pain.

Every nerve in his body seemed to be screaming in protest with every breath he took. It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt...

"What time is it?" A quiet, husky voice somewhere overhead asked.

Grell froze up immediately, not daring to move a muscle. The memory of what had happened flooded back to him, and he felt fear rise in his aching chest as that unfamiliar voice filled the room.

Where was he? How'd he get there?

And who was there with him!

"Nearly one thirty in the morning." A second, smoother yet just as quiet voice answered. "How is he?"

"Steadily improving." The husky voice answered again. "He's certainly breathing much better, and his heart rate and pulse are stronger. His concussion wasn't as bad as I thought it was, so at least we didn't have to cut his head open to reset the cracked bones."

"As to be expected from his hard head."

"Very funny."

"His ribs?"

"Readjusted and taped, no problem."

"How about the stitches?"

"The regular took without a hitch. You're the expert on the modified ones, though, so I can't make the call on those. I have to say that they look pretty good to me, however."

Modified? What the fuck was that supposed to mean!

And who was saying he had a hard head! The nerve...

His anger vanished as hands slipped under him and cradled his back. Horrified, he felt himself being lifted slowly and propped into a sitting position. Too scared to dare make a move, he let himself hang limply, playing possum as he felt someone tugging at something at his side. He hardly dared to breathe as he felt something around him being slowly unwrapped. He suppressed a shiver as air brushed his bare skin, and then stopped breathing entirely as he felt a gloved hand touch his upper chest, just to the right of his heart. Grell bit back a whimper; the place he touched was horribly sore and tender, and it began to throb with pain despite how gentle and careful the touch was.

"I agree with you." The smooth voice answered, the finger running across the especially sore spot slowly and causing Grell's panic to rise. Oh god that hurt! "As long as he doesn't thrash about and pull them loose, they should take in a week or so."

"As mine did." Said the husky voice dolefully. "You'd expect it to take longer, but it's such a magnificent design that it works surprisingly quickly."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." The second voice said, amusement tinting it just slightly. The finger stroked the painful spot again, contemplatively, and Grell resisted the urge to lunge out and bite the stranger, just to make him stop. However, much to the stranger's luck, the hand pulled away, and the smooth voice was more subdued, serious yet oddly gentle; sympathetic, even.

"He was very lucky."

Whoever, whatever was holding him, shivered just slightly.

"Very. It missed his heart by half an inch."

"As to be expected of a demon," The smooth voice scoffed. "Attacking for no reason and not even having decent enough aim to finish the job."

"Please don't speak like that, my nerves have had enough." The husky voice groaned, and the smooth one let out a sigh.

"My apologies. Besides, though he may not have been provoked, that demon wanted something. I will admit that they aren't the type to draw attention just for the sake of doing so."

"That's one thing I still need to tell you..."

Grell felt whatever it was wrap about him again, and then he was laid on his back once more, forced to listen in silent fear as the voices continued. His mind was racing, wondering if he was hearing something he shouldn't be, and what they would do to him if they found out.

"And what would that be?"

"On the wall he was laying at, there was a message in his blood. 'We are coming'."

Silence lasted for several seconds, and Grell almost dared to peek an eye open. He quickly shooed that thought from his mind as the smooth voice finally replied, sounding disturbed and, possibly, even frightened.

"So the scythe wasn't the only thing pointing to a recurring event, then."

"I'm earnestly surprised you dropped everything to look up information on the Swarm just because of that one detail."

"As far as we know, they're the only ones who know that."

"But that's only as far as we know." The husky voice answered gently. "It's a well-kept secret, but maybe that demon was getting lucky and didn't actually know the significance of what he was doing."

"We've had more scuffles over souls with demons than we have books in the library, you know. No one but the Swarm has ever done anything like this."

"I thought you'd gotten rid of them all, and made sure no more information could get out?"

"Well, so did I."

By now, Grell's curiosity was killing him. What the hell were they going on about?

And more importantly, who were they? He didn't recognize those voices in the slightest, and the more he tried to puzzle them out, the more confused he got.

He tried to slit one eye open, just a bit, to see who was there and debating his condition.

To his horror, he found he couldn't open his eyes at all. His eyelids twitched, as if to pull apart, but something tugged back and kept them closed.

He realized then that his eyes, his eyes had been stitched shut.

He sat bolt upright, and regretted the impulse immediately.

For one, it blew his cover. He was no longer keeping it safe and playing dead (well, technically, unconscious, as they already knew he was alive) until he could figure out where he was and who was there.

It also hurt like godawful fucking hell.

He doubled over and let out a low wail of pain, clutching at his throbbing chest as he did so. His fingers met the soft cotton of snugly-wound bandages, and, to his shock, his left arm felt immensely heavy, and he could hardly lift it from his lap.

The sound of a startled yell and a chair falling back against the floor sounded to Grell's immediate left, and from his right, two restraining hands pressed against his chest and forced him down, causing him to cry out in pain once again. His skin was extremely tender all over, and even the feeling of the starchy fabric below sent bolts of pain up his spine. The touch of those hands was nearly unbearable...

"Lay back." The husky voice sounded from directly above Grell, causing him to panic as those large hands held him down. Grell tried to sit up again, but they pushed firmly against his shoulders. "You'll tear your stitches, and that wouldn't be good for any of us."

"My eyes!" Grell gasped weakly, feeling panic rise in his throat. He tried to raise both hands from his face, but his left arm merely twitched pathetically at his side. His right hand, however, brushed more bandages and thick padding over his eyes, and he began to tug at it, desperate to see.

"No." Came the voice again as one of those hands moved from his shoulder and grabbed his wrist. "It'll be a few days before they heal, Grell, you can't take that off yet."

Grell whimpered his fear, tugging weakly against that strong, frightening hand. He felt pathetically helpless, and his limbs were heavy and weak. He now realized just how ill he felt, and he clenched his teeth to keep from vomiting.

Finally, realizing that fighting may just get him in even more trouble, he let out a shuddering sigh of defeat and let his arm go limp, submitting to the grip of that hand and showing that, for once, he was harmless.

The hand gently lay his arm back at his side, and he felt, to his immense surprise, a gentle hand stroking his hair back, soothing him with placid strokes of his locks.

There was a squeak of wood, and the smoother voice sounded very unhappy when it spoke again.

"You cannot tell me that that didn't startle you."

"You'd be surprised at the number of my customers who sit up on their own. You get used to it."

"...Thank you for that mental image."

"Anytime."

Grell turned his head in the direction of the husky voice, wincing as the bruises on his neck ached in protest. He only knew one person who'd say something like that...

"U-Undertaker?" He asked questioningly, his right hand reaching up and searching, searching for the familiar touch.

"Of course, Grell, who did you think it was?"

The voice sounded surprised, a little baffled even, and a warm, slender hand intertwined fingers with his. Long, familiar nails brushed the back of Grell's hand, and his heart lept with joy.

"You sound funny." He answered, squeezing that hand with what little strength he had.

"I don't think he can hear us with that bandage over his ears."

"Well, that makes sense."

The hand left Grell's for a second, and he felt the bandage about his eyes being tugged at gently about the edges. Finally, pressure around his ears that he didn't even notice before came free, and things suddenly sounded a lot clearer.

The hand slipped into his again, and the Undertaker's familiar voice was music to Grell's ears.

"Better, m'dear?"

Grell nodded weakly, and he heard another all-too familiar voice to his left.

"I certainly hope you didn't tear those stitches." William chastised. "I put a lot of work into those, you know. It's been ages since I've needed to make any and I'm ashamed to say that I'm a little out of practice."

Well, now he knew who'd called him hardheaded.

"Trust me, he wouldn't be so docile if he had. Tearing those things hurts, William." Undertaker chuckled from Grell's right. His thumb stroked the back of Grell's hand, and Grell was surprised at how tired he sounded. His voice, though not muffled and far-away anymore, was indeed slightly husky, and the exhaustion was evident in every word he spoke.

"What stitches?" Grell asked, taken aback by how feeble his voice was, and how badly it rasped; much worse than Undertaker's, certainly. "The ones on-"

"Your eyes? No." William answered, his voice suddenly much less harsh than Grell had ever heard before. He was shocked to realize that William was actually trying to be kind to him, and Grell wondered just how bad he looked to evoke that kind of reaction from the stiff Shinigami. He shuddered to himself; judging by how sore he was, it probably wasn't very good at all. He decided it was best not to think about it.

"I stitched up your chest where the scissors..." William paused for several seconds, cleared his throat, and then continued without bothering to finish his sentence. "Well, wounds like that require my own special brand of stitches. They're hard as hell to make, though, and you can't tear them or jostle them around until they've set in. You've got to be careful, so no more sudden movements, Sutcliff."

"Set in?" Grell asked, his voice taking a cautious note despite its obvious weakness. "What do you mean by that?"

Neither of them answered for a long moment, and Grell felt panic in the back of his throat.

"Tell me!" Grell demanded, his voice peaking a bit from fear.

"Hush, hush..." Undertaker said gently, squeezing Grell's hand again and beginning to stroke his hair once more. "Well, you see Grell, I'm afraid they're permanent." He said gently, touching Grell's cheek with his fingertips. "But it's not bad, really. The wound was more deep than long, so it's only about two and a half inches worth of stitching."

Grell felt sick, absolutely sick, and a tense silence followed as it sunk it. Permanent? Permanent stitches? Who had ever heard of such a thing!

"But, my eyes... I can't be blind!" Grell whimpered, his strained voice cracking on the last word, proof enough that he was on the verge of tears.

"Didn't you hear me before?" William stepped in, his voice firmer and with a bit more of the cold chip he always had. "They're not the same kind."

"Those will be out in a week at the most, Grell." Undertaker said, his voice placating. "Technically, all I did was stitch your eyelids so you'd keep your eyes closed. Your glasses broke, and if you were human, you'd be blind, yes. But, of course, you're not. Your vision won't be perfect, but it never was to begin with, hm? It won't be any worse than before, though, I'll bet my hat on that."

"That's more of a wager than you'd think." William added in, his voice losing the harshness and gaining a note of amusement. Undertaker's tired chuckle sounded comfortingly close, and Grell relaxed as this sank in.

I'm not blind! I'm not blind!

"But, how?" Grell asked, his voice much calmer than before, quiet and weak. "I don't understand..."

Undertaker was taken aback by how quickly he'd calmed. He blinked, his tired smile slipping from his face as surprise and a peculiar, warm feeling filled him.

Did... Did Grell really trust him that much? Enough to be brought from the verge of hysteria and take his words to heart that seriously, in those few seconds it took for them to leave his mouth?

Undertaker coughed gently into the crook of his arm, hiding his face as emotion overwhelmed him for a brief second. He was determined not to show anything, whether or not Grell could see him; he had to be strong for him, now more than ever, and it wasn't the time to be getting sentimental.

William looked away, pretending not to notice. They did that often for each other; hiding the slips in their cool fronts and never bringing them up, and covering for each other should anyone question them. It was one of the many things they both appreciated about their friendship.

"I'll explain later." Undertaker said calmly, his voice soothing and even. Grell relaxed as Undertaker toyed absently with a lock of crimson hair, which had been washed free of blood hours before. "It's past midnight, and I've been up this entire time. Besides, I'm willing to bet that you're tired as well."

"Make that three." William answered, biting his lip to stifle a yawn as he checked his pocket watch. "Keeping everyone in order and then making sure everything was clear before sending them back to their quarters wasn't a picnic, you know."

Undertaker laughed gently, and his fingers slipped down and stroked Grell's cheek. "That settles it, then. I'll stay here tonight, William, you can go ahead and head off to bed. Thank you for keeping me company."

"You're welcome." William answered. Grell heard the creak of wood as he stood, and then the sound of dress shoes moving across the floor.

He heard the creak of what he now knew to be the infirmary door, and then, to his surprise, William's voice again.

"Sleep well. You especially, Sutcliff. The sooner you heal, the better."

The door closed gently, and Grell felt gentle fingers at his chin.

Undertaker gently tilted Grell's head and placed a tender kiss on his lips. He didn't dare overdo it, lest he cause Grell more pain, but he couldn't help himself; after all the stress and worry of the last sixteen hours, he needed to reassure Grell that he was here, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Grell kissed him back, his heart thudding with surprise and pleasure as their lips gently moved against each other. He certainly hadn't been expecting that, especially not after the Undertaker had left him. Hell, he hadn't even expected him to show up at all; namely because he thought he was dead, but that was beside the point.

No one had ever kissed him after they left.

No one had bothered to help him.

They certainly wouldn't have stopped to help save his life.

Undertaker pulled away and several long moments, and Grell could hear a satisfied sigh escape his lips as he sat back in the chair, still clutching Grell's hand. Grell was disappointed the kiss had ended at all, but undeniably happy that it had been there in the first place. Happy; and very, very confused.

"Goodnight, m'dear." Undertaker said, his tired voice even lower now that William had left. "Are you comfortable enough to sleep?"

"I think so." Grell rasped back, and smiled weakly as Undertaker squeezed his hand.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to wake me." Undertaker answered, yawning quietly. "I'm not letting go." He promised, giving Grell's hand another small squeeze.

Grell felt his heart thud again, and he shifted slightly, doing his best to get comfortable.

"Can you sleep like that?" He questioned softly, finally settling down.

He could almost hear Undertaker smile.

"I sleep standing in a coffin every night, m'dear, a chair is hardly a challenge."

"It's not nearly as soft, though."

Undertaker chuckled softly, and Grell heard him blow out a small breath. Somehow, the darkness got even darker. He knew then that Undertaker had blown out a candle that he and William must have been using.

"No, it's not, but I have you here, and it's all I could ask for."

Grell felt himself blush, and Undertaker's nails gently brushed over his cheek. Grell knew how sharp they were, but they were extremely careful as they began to stroke down his face in a slow, soothing way, over and over, and he felt himself relax. It felt a bit odd, but at the same time, strangely good...

Undertaker began to hum a foreign, dark-sounding lullaby. Grell's entire body relaxed as the gentle notes calmed him in the same strange way those stroking nails did. It was like Undertaker was casting a spell in his own unusual but effective way.

Grell wouldn't have asked for anything else.

"Goodnight..." Grell mumbled sleepily.

Seconds after, he'd fallen into an easy, painless sleep.

xxx

THAT WAS SO FLUFFEH. 8D

Lol, I wasn't expecting it to be so fluffy and soft like that~! I like how this chapter came out!

Reviews are great. ^_^ And you'll finally have some questions answered next chapter!


	10. Details

Woo! The chapters have finally hit double digits! 8D

Thank you all so much for the kind reviews and comments. ^_^ I'm so happy that the fanfic has turned out well so far.

Also, if anyone was curious about Undertaker's lullaby, I imagine it sounding something like this: /watch?v=wcDQzX4GqIk

Midnight Syndicate is an amazing band. o.o Instrumental, creepy, and fun to listen to even if it's not Halloween!

Anyway, if any of this confuses you guys, or I leave something out, please don't hesitate to tell me! I can't get better if I don't know what's wrong, right?

xxx

Grell stirred, awakening sometime in the late morning. He tried to open his eyes again, unsuccessfully, before remembering his condition. He let out a light groan of annoyance as he realized once again how achy his body was, and a soft thump as a book was shut nearby met his ears.

"Have you finally rejoined us, Sleeping Beauty?" Undertaker chuckled gently, running his fingers through Grell's hair, the other still intertwined with Grell's hand. "It's nearly noon."

"Is it?" Grell asked sleepily, his voice still rather raspy. He cleared his throat, then winced as the motion caused his chest to pull painfully. This was starting to get very annoying...

Undertaker clucked his tongue gently, and Grell felt that hand leave his, only to cup his back a second later and gently prop him up against the pillows. He felt something press against his lips invitingly, and, realizing that it was a glass of water, he drank deeply.

Undertaker raised an eyebrow as Grell drained the glass in about ten seconds, stroking the back of his hand absently as he did so. Grell let out a grateful sigh and sat back once he was finished; he hadn't even realized how thirsty he'd been before.

"Better?" Undertaker inquired lightly, smirking to himself as he set the glass down. Grell nodded gingerly, grimacing slightly as the many bruises on his neck throbbed in protest.

"Much." Grell answered. His voice was a bit stronger now that his thirst had been quenched, and it no longer rasped like sandpaper. Undertaker smiled in earnest, pleased with the result.

"Has William found out anything else?"

"About what, m'dear?"

"That demon."

Undertaker frowned again, clasping hands with Grell. He contemplated his answer, then decided a avoiding the whole truth wouldn't hurt.

Grell didn't need to know all the details until something crucial was determined, and William was working on putting the pieces together as they spoke.

"Well, actually, he wanted to get a description from you, so he could see what he could find." Undertaker said simply. That was part of the truth, at least. "We need to investigate further before we can really do that much. Right now, we only even know it was a demon because of the demonic spiritual presence that was in that alley and the surrounding area."

Grell shivered, sitting up a little bit more under the watchful, ever-careful eye of the Undertaker, who was ready to spring should Grell move the slightest bit too much.

"Maybe you should go get William, then... He takes a break at noon, anyway."

"Already ahead of you, Sutcliff."

Grell turned his head in the direction of William's voice, and he heard the familiar sound of the infirmary door squeaking closed. (It opened silently, at least, but it was very noisy when it shut, and it always served to warn Grell of someone entering the room).

"Good afternoon, William." Undertaker greeted pleasantly, his hand brushing back Grell's hair as he did so. "You came up just in time."

"Apparently." He said curtly, sitting down at Grell's left as he had the night before. "Now, what were you discussing?"

"The demon," Grell interjected, shifting a bit to try and make himself comfortable. He heard a rustle of paper and the sound of a pen scratching over it, and he knew William had come prepared to take notes. "His name was Resmodus, as he was rather polite and gave me his name before knocking my lights out." Grell pouted.

"I'm not familiar with that name... Do you remember what he looked like?" William asked,, and Grell heard the familiar clicking as William adjusted his glasses... most likely with his death scythe.

He was also fairly sure that he heard a bit of a guarded note in his superior's voice.

"Blond, his hair cut to about his chin, except in the back, where it reached a little further down his neck." Grell answered after taking a brief moment of silence to ponder William's hesitation, and the busy scratching of the quill pen replied. "His eyes were the usual reddish color, so they were kinda pretty..."

"Stay on track, Sutcliff." William's exasperated voice cut through Grell's swooning. He shook his head with quiet bewilderment and looked at the Undertaker, who simply shrugged in response, not having any explanation to offer.

Leave it to Grell to do something like fantasizing over his attacker.

"Sorry... Anyway, he was wearing some really dark clothing when I saw him... I don't really remember what, but I think there was some navy in there..."

"That's not too terribly important, anyway. Anything else?"

"His bangs covered about half of his right eye, and he was kinda pale." Grell added as an afterthought after searching his mind for a second. He was pretty good with faces, but for some reason, being temporarily blind actually made things like that a little harder to remember.

"Right. Did you manage to leave any marks on him?"

"I stabbed his arm with one of the scissors, which is the pair he used against me, I think. I bit his shoulder, too."

William had to suppress a smile, and he dipped the pen in ink again before continuing again. Grell might have been imagining it, but his dark-haired superior might have sounded a little proud of him when he spoke again, and it cheered him up considerably.

"Well, that certainly would have left a mark."

Grell grinned, proud of himself despite the fact that he'd certainly received much more damage than he'd dealt, and Undertaker's jolly chuckle filled the room. William, however, was looking grim again, and his brow was furrowed as he paused, thinking long and hard about what he'd found so far.

"Thank you, Sutcliff. I'll go and put this under file."

"William?"

"Yes?"

"He said something to me."

William turned and looked at Grell, whose grin had vanished. He was now looking apprehensive, and Undertaker was leaning in a bit, expectant.

"'We are coming.'"

Undertaker looked at William, and they seemed to reach a silent understanding; the threat they were hoping against was most likely there, and definitely as dangerous as it had been before. William looked especially grim now, as the evidence was rapidly adding up.

"William...?" Grell asked tentatively, fearing that William was now somehow upset with him.

"Thank you, Sutcliff." William said shortly. "I'll add that in as well."

Grell heard retreating footsteps, and then the door closing, and he could feel the unease in the air. He turned his head in Undertaker's direction, biting his lip slightly.

"...That's a bad thing, isn't it?"

"Maybe." Came Undertaker's cautious, guarded reply. "Or maybe it's just a bluff." Please let it be just a bluff. Some sort of sick, perverse demonic joke...

Grell felt the Undertaker adjusting the bandage at his eyes absently, and he reached up and ran his fingers over Undertaker's hand to get his attention.

"Are you going to explain that whole stitches thing now?"

"Ah, yes..." Undertaker said, jumping at the chance to change subjects, his voice easing up slightly. "Well, you understand the basic difference between Shinigami and demons, don't you?" He asked, well-aware of the fact that because they were often so incredibly busy, the officers were often lacking some knowledge of both themselves and their demon counterparts, meaning there were gaps in what they knew in anything more than the very basics. Besides, there were a few things William didn't want them to know, and for good reason. Therefore, one mantra and one mantra alone was pounded into them since the very first moment of their lives as Shinigami; defeat the demons first, ask questions later.

"One reaps souls and the other eats them?"

Undertaker chuckled, and Grell scowled slightly. What was so funny? That was the difference!

"That, too, I suppose. But the basic difference I'm referring to is this: demons are essentially bodies without souls, while Shinigami are souls without bodies.

"You see, demons are soulless, and therefore consume souls in an attempt to fill the void that that creates. This means that they prey on humans who, since they have the highest level of consciousness among mortals, have the richest, strongest, most 'satisfying' souls. Occasionally, though, a weaker demon who's down on his luck will prey on the souls of animals, but for the most part, they're left alone. Now, this is all elementary, but it starts getting complicated when you bring death scythes into the equation.

"Trying to reap a demon is like trying to kill something that's already dead. It doesn't really work, you know? You can beat it up as much as you'd like, totally immobilize it and make it useless, even, but it will still be alive. But, because demons take on a human form and live a human life when they're under contract, they do form a Cinematic Record while they have a human form, like every living thing does."

"Yeah... I cut Sebastian once, he had one." Grell mused, obviously following along to that point. Undertaker smiled slightly.

"But, didn't you wonder why he didn't die?"

"Yes."

"The reason is, once again, because they're not really even alive; or, at least, not alive enough for us to kill so easily. While they do have Cinematic Records, those records don't have souls to bond to in order to form books, which we keep in our Library. Instead, the demon will heal within minutes of you inflicting that wound, if he has the chance, and be able to walk around as if nothing happened at all. However, it is still possible to kill a demon.

"If you cut a demon and manage to reveal its Cinematic Record, you can then cut the film and end that demon's life permanently, and the demon will die as any normal human would, because the Cinematic Record is an extension of one's life force-which demons are in possession of-and lacking both your record and your soul will kill anyone. However, since most demons rarely spend more than a few years in the Realm of the Living, their Cinematic Records usually last only seconds. If a Shinigami wishes to kill a demon, they must be very fast to cut the film once it's exposed. However, demons are extremely hardy creatures, so even a wound bad enough to reveal their records usually isn't enough to stop them. During that half-second you're distracted and trying to cut its film, that demon can and will tear you to pieces."

Grell shuddered at the thought, remembering how fast Resmodus had been. He didn't doubt what the Undertaker was saying in the least.

"That is the reason, dear Grell, that demons are easier to injure than they are to kill. However, Shinigami are the opposite; by comparison, it's much easier to kill us than it is to do us any lasting harm.

"Believe it or not, m'dear," The Undertaker said fondly, gently chucking Grell under the chin. "You and I are not much more than solidified ghosts. We have more of a body-like exoskeleton than an actual body; it's why we're so much lighter than humans or demons and can jump very high and even defy gravity in some circumstances."

Grell tilted his head slightly, soaking in the new information. Needless to say, it was hard to imagine that the pain he was experiencing wasn't even contained in an actual body; just a solidified shell...

"Well, that makes sense, I guess..."

Undertaker laughed, hearing the uncertainty in Grell's voice, and Grell scowled at him.

"What's so funny?"

Undertaker giggled and kissed the back of Grell's hand, causing Grell to blush and fidget.

"I know, I know, I still find it a little strange to think about it too much about myself. Still, though, I've come to find it amusing."

"You would."

Undertaker's happy chuckle met him, and Grell couldn't help but smile.

"As I was saying, m'dear, we're not much more than solidified ghosts. However, this means that it's pretty hard to do us any lasting damage. It's honestly like punching the wind; you might cut a gust of it in two with your fist, but it will simply reform in seconds and blow on as usual, without taking the slightest bit of lasting damage. Being not much more than super-concentrated souls, you and I and every other Shinigami in this workplace have amazing healing capability. I could fall down through the floor and snap my back this very instant, and be no worse for wear by next week. It's because damaging a soul is right next to impossible; therefore, permanently damaging a Shinigami is right next to impossible as well. You can easily mess up a solid body, as you can mess up a human or demon, but you just can't mess up a soul, as it has no real shape, either in its natural state, or when it's mimicking that of a human body. It's sort of like putting water into a glass; it might take on a cylindrical shape while it's there, but when you pour it out, the puddle won't be cylindrical, or any other defined shape, either."

"But-"

"We do have shapes, and we're not translucent, I know." Undertaker said with a knowing grin. "That's what I meant by things getting a bit complicated. We are like demons in the way that, with practice-more so on our end than theirs- what we are can shape itself into whatever specific form we choose. However, if your soul were to be broken down into what would normally go into one of the books, A.K.A. its natural form, it's not much more than a blob, just like any other soul. Demons, however, have a natural form that's a complete body, which they disguise in order to join the Human Realm undetected. Common sense says that all humans naturally have a body as well, which is why we are still without bodies in the long run, as demons always have bodies, Shinigami never truly have one, and humans merely end up as film reels, and then books once they depart."

"So..."

"We are sort of in disguise, yes." Undertaker chuckled, and his hand stroked Grell's cheek softly. "But, that's where the next part comes in. You remember Sebastian losing his arm while fighting that angel?"

Grell nodded, and Undertaker continued to stroke his cheek as he spoke.

"Well, demons have far weaker healing capabilities than we do, because their human forms are nothing more than molds that are easily damaged and need to be repaired manually, and their true forms heal just as slowly as humans, and only marginally better, which is why it's so rare for them to fight using their natural forms. They can only heal their human bodies by disappearing back to the Demonic Realm and taking their natural forms before reshaping their old bodies from scratch. Only then can they essentially rebuild their forms and correct any injuries or illnesses. However, demons can walk around with extremely bad injuries to their human forms and still be okay as long as their Cinematic Record isn't cut. Even so, if a demon is knocked unconscious or is so incapacitated that they can't form a portal to get back to the Demonic Realm and heal themselves, they can lay there for days, weeks, maybe even Eternity if they're unlucky enough, and that makes them fair game for us. Still, that takes an incredible amount of damage, and that, dear Grell, is why Sebastian didn't become a useless sack of flesh after you hacked his arm off."

Grell couldn't help but roll his eyes behind his stitched lids, and Undertaker hid a chuckle; he could tell what Grell was doing, because he always got one particular pout when he was doing it. He obviously didn't enjoy Undertaker speaking so flippantly about Sebastian, as though the demon was nothing impressive. Even though Grell's interest didn't actually go any deeper than casual flirting to rile a reaction out of the demon (which was always well-worth William's punishments) he had to admit that the demon was an odd one among his kind; he'd never seen one who was so committed to aesthetics or honesty before, even if he often twisted promises and the like to suit himself. For that reason, Grell held a marginal bit of respect for the demon... but Gods help him if William ever found that out.

"That, m'dear, is why Shinigami are superior when it comes to healing, even if we are more susceptible to the hand of Death. Being nothing more than a solid ghost, your entire body will heal and be just as perfect as it was before in a week or so. You won't be blind, though I certainly doubt that mishap would have helped your vision in the least." Undertaker chuckled playfully.

Grell felt himself blush at the compliment, and he wriggled slightly, feeling bashful. Undertaker smirked and pressed Grell's hand to his lips once again.

"But... you haven't explained how we're easier to kill."

"Ah," The Undertaker sighed knowingly. He glanced at the door, turning over the answer in his mind. What he was about to reveal was highly classified information that very few knew about, thanks to William's careful, guarded safety measures, and Grell had a bit of a habit of letting things slip. Undertaker wasn't supposed to say a word without approval from William, and he wrestled with the idea for a moment, then decided that it only made sense to tell Grell the rest, as they'd already come this far, and the reaper had a right to know now that he was in this situation.

"Well... Being super-souls, as I like to call us, we are affected by death scythes just like any other soul would be. A death scythe is the one thing that can kill a Shinigami if it is put into the wrong hands. Should a Shinigami be wounded by a death scythe, it's the same as marring a soul with one; the cut will always be there, always, and if it's a fatal wound, well... It's much like using that ancient demonic sword against a demon, really..."

Undertaker bit his lip as Grell went pale. Slowly, Grell removed his hand from Undertaker's and gingerly touched the wound just to the right of his heart, where the scissors had very nearly taken his life.

"So, I... almost died?"

"You're safe now, Grell." Undertaker said soothingly. "William is not a very friendly person, yes, but he's certainly not heartless. He invented something revolutionary years and years ago; modified stitches that can close the wounds inflicted by death scythes. He makes them from scratch, and not even I know how he does it. But, not one of them has ever failed once they've taken, because he's such a damn perfectionist..." Undertaker chuckled softly and stroked a finger over Grell's lips, extracting a small shudder from the younger Shinigami. "He says your stitches are doing well so far, and he doesn't foresee a problem at all as long as you don't mess them up. I don't, either, and I'm sure you'll go about your life without a care in the world after this."

Grell smiled weakly, but he felt raw fear rise in his throat. Like others of his kind, he'd always thought Shinigami next to invincible; raw and ageless in power and body. Afterall, most of them had had some sort of violent encounter with a demon, and they wouldn't even scar because of it. He knew Shinigami were rumored to be able to die, sure, as it was said to be in the ancient documents that had been recorded and saved over the many years of the Library. Still, no one had ever seen any of those documents, or the death of one of their colleagues, and since it could only be found in stories, it often seemed much more like fable than Reality. But here was the oldest and most experienced Shinigami ever telling him that he technically didn't even have a body, and he'd been right at Death's door...

It was then that he realized what Undertaker had said earlier about stitches, and how much it hurt to tear them by mistake.

"Wait, so your scars-"

Undertaker pressed a finger firmly to Grell's lips, and Grell immediately fell silent.

"That's quite enough about that subject."

His voice was guarded now, very cautious and low once again, as though he'd gone too far, said something he shouldn't, and knew it. Grell, startled at the sudden change, pulled away from that finger, scared to say anything else, lest he offend the Undertaker and drive him away. He really, really didn't want to be alone; not while being blind and vulnerable like this.

"So... How long before I'll be able to see again?" Grell asked gently, fearing repercussion.

"About a week, as I said. You arm should heal at about the same pace, so we can take the cast off around that time, too." Undertaker said pleasantly, his voice much calmer and open now.

Grell was now insanely curious about what was being hidden from him. Undertaker's scars, William's interest in the death scythe and gathering as much information as he could on a long-forgotten event whose heavily-guarded file could have only been read by the highest Shinigami officers, and who was only very briefly, vaguely mentioned in anything else... It was obvious that very few, if any, Shinigami even knew what the Swarm was, judging by the lack of reaction when it was mentioned, and Grell had to admit that he himself didn't have the faintest idea of what it was, and he was one of the oldest Shinigami there.

But, a part of him, deep down, was saying that he probably didn't want to know the answer to these questions at all; that it was better to live in comfortable ignorance than harsh Reality, as William had set it up to be. He had to have set it up that way for a good reason, as William was not the sort of man who wasted his time sugar-coating things.

Damn, what was that part called again? Oh yeah...

Instinct.

"Well, Grell, are you hungry?" Undertaker asked, twirling a lock of Grell's hair between his fingers. "I could get one of the nurses to get you something."

Grell smiled weakly, wishing to get his mind off these things. "Sure."

A little while later, as he nibbled on a small sandwich (while Undertaker kept a bucket ready, in case he get nauseous) Grell's mind couldn't help but wander back to that burning question:

What were they hiding?

xxx

I hope the info-drop was more helpful than boring. XD See you in the next chapter!


	11. Not So Sweet Dreams

Sorry the link got cut off in the last post. If anyone wants to know, the Undertaker's lullaby sounds like the song Lullaby by Midnight Syndicate. :) It was a youtube link, so if you tack what did show up at the end of a youtube URL, it should take you there.

xxx

William set aside yet another file, his eyes feeling strained and tired from all the reading he'd done in the last day and a half. He had finally reviewed everything, every single thing that even _mentioned_ the Swarm, and he hadn't found anything that he didn't already know. There were no new clues, no tips, nothing. He'd hit a dead end, and the only other options that he could use to reach a confirmation of the threat were both very, very unpleasant.

He folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them, exhausted and aggravated. He allowed his eyes to slide closed, mulling over all the information for the hundredth time as he tried to keep himself awake.

He could always throw everything to the wind and go down to the Demon Realm and investigate himself, but that would probably get him killed and blow everything to hell. Besides, throwing caution to the wind was never his style, and any demon worth his contract would be able to tell that a Shinigami was in the wrong realm the second they set foot there. Infiltration was impossible, and even trying was suicide.

Or, he could wait it out and see what happened.

Which would mean that if his suspicions were correct, it would end up just like last time.

And that had to be avoided at all costs.

Besides, after the attack on Sutcliff, sitting around and doing nothing would made him look like a very poor person to be running the place, indeed. Afterall, it wasn't like he didn't care about Sutcliff himself, it's just that the circumstances behind his attack were much more important at the moment, simply because of the fact that many more lives than just Sutcliff's might be on the line.

So, the question now was whether to bring the fight, or wait for it to come to them. Neither seemed pleasant, and neither seemed like the answer, but either way, someone had to pay for what had happened to Grell.

Still, he couldn't just storm in and start a war with the other Realm without confirmation that yes, yes this was what he feared. That would end in many unnecessary casualties and completely sully his name, as well as the name of his Library and the Shinigami Realm itself. No, definitely _not_ a good choice.

William opened his eyes and dropped his hands as a knock came at the door, and he gave the entrance a foul look, wishing he could continue his brooding without interruption. However, it couldn't be helped, so he cleared his throat and made his voice as clear and authoritative as possible, successfully hiding the fatigue he felt.

"Come in."

Ronald Knox pushed the door open, a tea tray balanced on the splayed fingers of his right hand. As usual, the Shinigami was smiling, even if it looked a tad strained right then, and he bowed slightly when he saw his superior scowling irritably at him from behind the oak desk.

"Good afternoon!" He chirped as brightly as a midsummer day, walking briskly over to William's desk and setting the tray down. "You've been up all night and half the day, so I figured you'd like some tea to help keep you up and keep you calm, sir." He said, perching on the end of William's desk and smiling cheerily at him, much to William's annoyance. He simply wasn't in the mood for Ronald's optimism...

William's only outward reaction, however, was a slow blink as what Ronald was saying slowly sank into his tired mind, and he finally nodded in acknowledgment.

"Thank you." He said in a vaguely-weary monotone, and reached for the tray, craving nothing more than caffeine; and lots of it.

Ronald sprang up and poured the cup for him, causing William to draw his arm back quickly, a tad startled. William raised a tired eyebrow as Ronald prepared the tea perfectly, in just the way William liked, in no less than ten seconds, as if he didn't even have to think about it.

Ronald smiled proudly and slid the cup across the table to William, who quickly lowered his eyebrow as Ronald's sparkling, spring-green eyes met his. Had the kid been watching him prepare tea or something, like some sort of stalker? He had to have, how else would he know that William liked a dab of milk and exactly three spoonfuls of sugar?

"Are you finished with the files?" Ronald asked politely, dragging William out of his senseless puzzling. "There's a birthday party on the second floor for one of the secretaries in about an hour, but I can put these away for you if you want. I've got time to kill."

William closed his eyes and let out a low sigh. Ronald, thinking he'd done something wrong, frowned and bit his lip. Maybe he was making William feel rushed by mistake...

"I'm sorry. If you're not-"

"I am finished. Go ahead and take them, Ronald. Thank you for the help."

Ronald's frown remained as William's short, clipped reply met him. He couldn't help but be a little bit stung; William never seemed to acknowledge his help in the least, no matter how hard Ronald tried to impress him, and Ronald always felt a little underappreciated when he spoke to him.

Oh well, he'd just have to try harder. William had high standards, afterall. He'd have to notice him eventually, right?

"Oh, well, okay then." Ronald said cheerily, the smile coming back to his lips, unabashed. Scooping up the small stack of files carefully and grinning at William, he turned toward the door. "I hope you found what you wanted. Overtime sucks, huh? Especially when we have it because of things like this!"

William nodded slightly, focusing more on his tea then on the cheery, pleasant-minded Shinigami in front of him, his mind too overworked to function properly in a social situation... not that it ever did too well in social situations, anyway.

"William?"

"Hm?"

"You can come down to the party if you want..."

"No thank you."

Ronald had not expected him to take up the offer, so he wasn't really surprised, though he did feel a tiny bit of disappointment. He turned to leave, cradling the papers carefully, and gasped when one file slipped off of the top of the stack and rapidly began to fall. With his arms full, there was no way he could catch it, and he could do nothing but watch as it headed for the ground.

William's hand, quick as ever, darted out and caught the folder before it could hit the floor and scatter. Obviously a bit miffed now, as he wanted to be alone, he set the file back on the top of the stack in Ronald's arms and sat back down. Ronald then noticed the faint dark circles under his eyes, and how his hair was a bit more ruffled than it should have been.

"Be more careful." William said gruffly, turning back to his tea as a sign that Ronald would be wise to leave.

Ronald's smile vanished immediately, and his eyes shamefully dropped to the floor.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"Go on, then." William said shortly, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ronald left the office, tugging the door closed with his foot as he did so. Hurt, he went off to put away the papers, doubting he'd be able to enjoy the party now, as the image of William's displeased eyes refused to leave his mind.

000

He'd been here a thousand times before, but it never changed.

The sound of his own boots crashing against the floor, the weight of his scythe in his hand, the feeling of blood pouring from his now-mutilated face, and the unending terror of knowing that he was about to lose someone near and dear... It was all the same as it had always been.

He tried to stop, stop and rationalize and and make his dream-self realize that it was just that; a dream, that he could and should stop and turn around and go elsewhere, before he was forced to relive it again.

But he couldn't. And that was the same, as well.

"It's over!" His dream-self cried, triumph in his voice despite knowing that his face was ruined for eternity. But who cared? They'd won, even though following orders had meant that he'd had to leave the injured and anyone who couldn't keep fighting behind until after the battle. It was an all-for-one order that made sure every able Shinigami was out fighting, and it was supposed to be used only in the most urgent emergencies.

This was the first time it had ever been used.

Undertaker didn't like it, but protocol was for the good of everyone, right? They wouldn't make rules if the rules hurt people.

Right?

Therefore, Undertaker had obeyed the order without question, though, inwardly, it had frightened him when they had had to part ways in order to find the last of the remaining attackers. But, there had only been a few left then, and the call had just come up that they'd just found and destroyed the last one.

They'd won!

So it didn't matter that he'd broken his promise and left the side of his love, did it?

Because they'd won! They'd won, and everything would be okay now, and she'd forgive him, and so would he, and everything would be fine, fine, _fine..._

That's what the order had been helping them do, right?

_Right?_

"Do you hear me? It's-"

And, once again, just as he always had, he rounded that corner and, instantly, felt his very soul rip in two as the horribly-familiar sight met his eyes.

"No, no, no no _no no...!"_

Then, the feeling of someone reaching around his neck...

A devious chuckle in his piercing-clad ear...

His skin slicing one last time...

His own screams of protest turning to weak burbles as blood welled in his throat...

_Agony..._

000

Grell was awake, to say the least. The nap that Undertaker had forced him to take had been over for nearly an hour, and he felt over-rested and fidgety. He, of course, couldn't see a thing besides some differences in light, so he had little outside stimulation and was bored out of his bloody mind, just hoping that Undertaker would wake up soon so he could at least have a conversation to keep himself occupied.

Undertaker, however, was apparently still napping, as Grell could hear his steady breathing instead of the turning of old pages as he leafed through Gods-know-what in order to keep himself busy.

With the occasional giggle to himself, of course.

However, Grell noticed something strange about his sleeping roommate.

Undertaker's breathing was speeding up a bit as he slept, and the hand that clasped Grell's was clammy and cold. He was mumbling to himself, something Grell had yet to hear him do (while asleep, anyway), and he was twitching at odd intervals, his nails lightly scraping the back of Grell's hand. Grell guessed that he was dreaming, but from what he could tell, it certainly wasn't a very nice dream.

"No, no, no no _no no..."_

Grell turned his head in Undertaker's direction, startled by the sudden string of clear words in place of inaudible mumbles. It sounded like Undertaker had woken and was talking to Grell now, and Grell expected to then feel hands on his shoulders and that same voice chastising him for moving about too much. Why else would he be telling him "no" like that?

Grell was about to protest and say that he wasn't even sitting up before he realized something.

This "no" was entirely different from the others before it.

Undertaker sounded... _frightened._

Not strict or protective as he usually sounded when he told Grell to stop something, but honestly and truly scared... no, _terrified _of whatever he was dreaming about.

Grell sat up as much as he could, wincing as his stitches tugged slightly and throbbed with protest. He opened his mouth to utter Undertaker's name, to rouse him from whatever unpleasant experience he was enduring...

_"Claudia!"_

000

He felt the hot wave of blood overflow his torn throat and flow down his front instantly. Acting on the pure instinct of his training, he whirled and sliced the scythe through the air in a long, graceful arc. In response, the sickening _THUD_ of the blade slicing through the meat of a solid body met his ears, and he knew half the job was done.

Before the torrent of blood could cause him to pass out and, then, _mercifully, _end his life, he reared the scythe back again and brought it crashing down on the Cinematic Record.

This was where he usually woke up. This was where he'd always woken up, as he'd passed out seconds after he'd cut that film, right? That's what his memories always told him. He couldn't remember anything after that, besides William's concerned face peering down his own after he'd woken up in the same infirmary he was in now, and then having to hear that horrible news...

But, this time, a new minuscule yet undeniably crucial detail in the dream emerged.

His scythe, for the first time _ever,_ in his _entire_ career, missed its mark.

And, anguished at his first and last defeat, he'd cried out the name of the one he'd let down the most. As though it would make a difference. As though it would stop him from hitting the floor.

As though it would bring her back.

_"Claudia!"_

000

Grell jumped and sat up ramrod-straight as Undertaker's anguished cry suddenly rent the air. He gasped and yanked his hand from Undertaker's, clutching at his chest as the sudden movement caused a shudder of pain to rip through his body. He doubled over, gasping for breath as he heard the Undertaker finally wake.

Undertaker, jolted from his sleep by his own cry, sat bolt upright in the chair, his entire body in a cold sweat. He blinked, then shook his head to clear it of the nightmare, remembering where he was, and, more importantly, who was there with him.

"Grell!" Undertaker gasped as he saw the younger Shinigami clutching at the stitches on his chest. He stood up immediately, gently pressing against Grell's wounded shoulders and forcing him to lay back down.

"You've got to stop jerking around so much, Grell." Undertaker said sternly, his voice ringed with exasperation and, Grell noticed, an amount of that same fear he'd had before. "You know the risks of doing so, and it's really just not wise to take them."

That fear in his voice frightened Grell, as he'd never, _ever_ seen the Undertaker show any emotion like that before, much less scream because of it. In fact, he was pretty sure that _no_ Shinigami in the Library had ever seen him react like that. It was a sudden and startling change, and he didn't like it in the least.

Still, Grell reasoned, the demons of one's dreams can do _horrid_ things to even the toughest being...

He didn't know how right he was.

However, one detail in particular was really bugging him; why in the _hell_ was he screaming for another girl, while sitting right next to Grell's own bed?

"You... you screamed!" Grell gasped, reaching out and gripping Undertaker's wrist to make sure he had his attention. "What's wrong? Why were you screaming some other girl's-"

"I need to go speak with William."

Undertaker's voice had turned Jeckle-and-Hyde once again, and it was now calm; cautious and guarded and smooth. Grell was concerned, hurt, and frankly furious that Undertaker was not only speaking, but actually screaming the name of another woman in his sleep, and then refusing to tell Grell anything. No, instead he was already running to his precious William, as though Grell wasn't even there...

"But-"

"It was just a dream, Grell. You don't really think I could be this scarred up and not have them from time to time, do you? Life's been... interesting." Undertaker answered calmly, a small chuckle emitting from him. "Don't worry about me."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"No buts, Grell." Undertaker said. Before Grell could protest any more, he was silenced by Undertaker's lips against his own, and for a moment, his mind blacked out entirely. Nothing mattered then but the bliss of Undertaker's practiced lips moving against his, and he felt all the hurt doubt and sudden, pure jealousy leave his mind for a brief second. He leaned a little bit deeper into the kiss, and his heart skipped a beat when Undertaker's tongue slipped in and brushed his own, further driving the thoughts from his mind...

Undertaker was really too good at that. It just wasn't fair.

After several seconds, they slipped apart, Grell's cheeks now colored a light pink beneath the black-and-purple bruises.

"I'll be right back, m'dear, I'll send Ronald up in case you need anything while I'm gone. He'll make sure you're okay, and he's good company. He rather dotes on you, does he not?"

Grell nodded numbly, still reeling from the kiss. He was now utterly torn between being extremely pissed with the Undertaker and head-over-heels for him, and the doubt and jealousy were flooding back already, fighting with the way his heart was pounding. He heard the sound of Undertaker's boots across the floor, and then a pause as the door was opened.

"Undertaker?" Grell asked timidly.

"Hm?" The retiree answered, looking back over his shoulder at Grell.

"...You're staying with me, right?" Grell mumbled, realizing too late the bitter double-meaning of his words. He bit his lip gently, feeling suddenly awkward; a very rare emotion for him, indeed.

Undertaker's easy chuckle made Grell relax for a second, but his answer caused Grell to tense up again hopelessly.

"We all have preoccupations, m'dear. I'll be coming back, of course, but I may bring company when I do."

The noisy sound of the door closing made Grell swallow roughly. Just what was that supposed to mean? Who the hell was this "Claudia"? Regardless, if Undertaker dared bring another woman in here, Grell was going to murder them both, injuries or no.

But, at the same time, he was becoming acutely aware just then of how earnestly vulnerable he was. On top of Undertaker's ambiguous answer to his own ambiguous question, his unease was further driven by the eerie silence that closed around him. The infirmary was as silent as a grave.

Though his sense of hearing was heightened by this temporary blindness, if someone were to open the door and not close it, he'd never hear them coming. It was a scary thought, and he tugged the bedsheets up a little higher about himself as paranoia of a different kind began to set it. It was childish, but without the Undertaker by his side, he felt as if a hundred demons were about to leap out of every corner and finish what they'd started.

Several agonizing minutes later, he could hear the sound of Ronald's cheery voice coming up the hallway, and he relaxed the slightest amount, though his skin was still breaking out in goosebumps.

"...Dinner at seven sounds great to me, Nancy, I can't wait." The boisterous young Shinigami laughed, and Grell turned his head to the door as his voice suddenly got a bit louder.

"Hello, Grell! I'm glad to see you're up!" He chirped, and Grell heard the sound of the door closing, and then of his close friend pulling up a chair. "I'm glad you're okay. You look a lot better now, not that you looked horrible before, of course. I don't think that's possible for you..."

Grell couldn't help but smile as the easy-going young Shinigami chattered on, and he felt himself relaxing again, momentarily distracted from his worries about Undertaker's mystery woman. He'd always gotten along very well with Ronald, and Ronald seemed to admire him. (_What is there not to admire? _Grell wondered, and his grin, though tight and nervous, returned. Yes, that was right, Undertaker couldn't possibly be seeing another woman... right? Not when he had Grell...) They both understood what it felt like to be ignored constantly, and how it felt to get brushed off on dates and by crushes, so they, like all underdogs, had banded together and become good friends. Grell could always cheer Ronald up (he had a habit of getting a little depressed whenever he felt as though he'd let someone down), Ronald could always calm Grell down and out of his legendary rages, and, most importantly, they made each other feel wanted.

"Nice to hear from you again, Ronnie!" Grell cooed, eager to take his mind off things, and Ronald laughed, pleased to see that Grell was still Grell, despite all the bandages and stitches adorning his body.

000

The urgent knocking at his door stirred William from another doze, and he looked up groggily, cursing the idiot who'd invented doors at all. He sat up and straightened his glasses, patting down his hair to make sure all was in place and letting out a quiet yawn, just so that he could get it out of his system.

He wasn't tired. No sir. Not. At. All.

"Come in."

"William," Undertaker said, his voice grim as he shut the door behind him. "I've just realized something, and you're not going to like it."

xxx

Eee, sorry for the short chapter/cliffhanger again. ;w; But this is where the story really begins to pick up, I promise!

And, in case any of you were wondering, I am still planning more pairings, and, of course, delicious lemons along the way! XD No worries, there!


	12. Conspiracy Theories

"This is bad. This is very, very bad." William said, his head in his hands and his voice tinged with a rare note of anxiety. "How in the hell...?"

"I swear to you, William, I haven't remembered that detail ever before. Somehow, though, it feels like it's just as real as the rest of the dream." Undertaker said grimly, slowly running a finger over the stitches of his own face. "And we know how real that is."

"But how should I know I can trust you?" William challenged darkly, sitting up and locking eyes (so to speak) with the Undertaker. "How am I supposed to know that your head isn't messing with you? Or that-"

"I'm conspiring against you?" Undertaker cut in, frowning deeply and holding William's gaze from where he was seated across from him, his voice low and very oddly serious. "What sort of ridiculous question is that?"

"Nothing's impossible," William said evenly, narrowing his eyes darkly. "I mean this with all due respect, but I can't help but be rather suspicious of you now. The attack comes out of nowhere, after over three hundred years of _nothing, _after Grell spends the night with you, and now _this!_ It all just seems a little too convenient-"

"Use your damn head, William!" Undertaker barked, causing William to blink and sit back with surprise. Undertaker's ferocious scowl had come out of nowhere, and behind his bangs, William could see two glittering, highly intelligent eyes glaring at him. Undertaker was _pissed,_ to say the _very_ least, and the way his voice had risen in octaves so suddenly proved that like nothing else could.

Oops...

"Number one, if I were conspiring against you, why would I be telling you this, _hm? _Wouldn't it make much more sense to leave you flailing about like a fish out of water until my so-called _'reinforcements'_ came in?" Undertaker growled, folding his hands and continuing to pin William with that terrifying, harsh look, that only the most disrespectful-and unlucky-people received. "Number two, why in the name of the Gods would I help Grell and not just kill him if I were in league with _them?_ Obviously they decided they wanted him dead, why wouldn't I go along with that, if I had suddenly jumped ships?

"And, number three and most importantly of all, _why would I work with them after what they did to me? _To _us, William!"_

The last sentence was an icy, dangerous hiss, and it was then that William realized he had unintentionally crossed so far over a certain line that he might not even get back alive. A shiver of fear raced up his spine as he just barely saw those eyes narrow, and his first instinct was to get up and run before Undertaker could make a move.

Too late.

Undertaker was on his feet and had William by the tie, yanking him up as well, his scowl of fury still implanted on his face. William felt his legs turn to jelly, and his heart leapt into his throat as he was forced to see those eyes even more clearly now, for the first time in years. It seemed as though his predicament had gone from bad to worse, and this time, he had no one to blame but himself.

Undertaker tapped William under the chin meaningfully, his sharp nail digging into William's skin and scraping the pale surface slightly, causing William to flinch and go even paler with fear. That talon was so close, _too _close to his throat for comfort...

"I would advise you," Undertaker said evenly, with deathly calm, though his voice was clearly ringed with a dangerous warning. "To _never _again accuse me of working with those who nearly ruined me, William. Though you are my dearest friend and colleague, I'm not willing to let even _you _get away with another slip-up like that. Are we clear?"

"C-crystal." William gasped, and fell back into his chair as Undertaker released him, his heart slamming so loudly that he wouldn't have been surprised if Undertaker could hear it. "My deepest apologies, that was not my intention, I assure you. It's just that so many things don't f-fit, and I'm getting a little aggravated and not thinking c-clearly..."

Undertaker sat down across from William again, clasping his hands and resting them on the table. His demeanor calm and cool once more, he looked at William casually, though there was an evident challenge in the way he was sitting for William to try and test him again.

William was _not _dumb enough to try it, not by any means. All of what Undertaker had said had made perfect sense, and he suddenly felt foolish and ashamed for making such a wild accusation. He hung his head like a scolded child, carefully avoiding Undertaker's gaze as he waited for the tense feel in the air to dissipate.

"I know, William, which is why you're getting off with a warning. You of all people would know that it's a very... _touchy _subject with me. As usual, you were just following protocol, and looking at everyone as a suspect." Undertaker chuckled darkly, and he wagged a chiding finger at William. "That was also part of my problem before; using protocol instead of my own common sense."

William straightened his clothing distractedly, still quite frightened of the Shinigami across from him. Though he knew the Undertaker would never kill him, or even inflict any serious, lasting damage on him, as they did have respect and an honest friendship with each other, he would certainly not hesitate to teach William a very painful lesson. He was usually a very easy-going person, but some things just jerked his chain a little too much, and even he had his limits.

And, when he was pushed past them, a very, _very _nasty temper.

William would know; he'd seen him in battle.

And he pitied the fool who was stupid enough to cross Undertaker.

"Understood, Undertaker." William said, eying Undertaker carefully to make sure he'd calmed down enough to be approachable. He was thinking his own words over very carefully now before letting them pass his lips, and Undertaker could tell, as a small, satisfied smile flitted across his face. "Again, I apologize. I'm merely... extremely concerned for the benefit of everyone here, and it was just... very sudden and rather... _surprising _to have you come and tell me this. I couldn't help but jump to conclusions, as what you're referring to is something we'd both rather not discuss, and I do my best to block it out most days. It's my fault for missing such an, ah... _obvious _set of details."

"I suppose that's fair," Undertaker said airily, spreading his arms wide and giving William a hair-raising grin of affection. "I also apologize for being so rough, William, but the past few days haven't been that pleasant, you know. It's enough to turn my hair white, I swear..."

"Apology accepted." They said in unison, and the tension in air immediately relaxed. That was another nice thing about their friendship; when they said that something was water under the bridge, they meant it.

William let out a small sigh of relief, and he pushed a cup of very sweet, black tea across the table to the Undertaker, who scooped it up immediately. William had prepared it as Undertaker had been explaining his dream, and the new detail he had noticed; the particular nature of demon who'd escaped. William was both extremely relieved and extremely terrified that his suspicions had been confirmed, and it was making him twice as woozy and irrational.

"Well, then," William said, readjusting his glasses and picking up his own cup of tea. "What do you suggest we do? This pretty much confirms everything, but we need someone to investigate so we can see what they're up to. I doubt they'd be foolish enough to try the same thing twice,. They must have something else up their sleeves this time, and we need to find out just what that is."

"Agreed." Undertaker said grimly, swallowing a mouthful of tea. "But that's where the real problem comes in; just how do we go about investigating this? It's impossible to go down there ourselves."

"Logic says that we either we send an undercover agent down there to investigate, or draw them out and somehow corner and question them, which is just as impossible as infiltration, and is just as suicidal. Either way, we're in over our heads, as we don't have the resources for anything like that." William answered.

"And blindly attacking certainly won't get us anywhere." Undertaker sighed, drumming his nails on the desk as he thought it over. "We don't know their motives or their plan, and for all we _do _know, a hasty attack on our part might just be what they're waiting on."

William nodded gravely, then stood up, pushing his teacup aside.

"We should go tell Sutcliff, then. By the looks of it, every Shinigami and their scythe is going to know what's happening in the next few days no matter what we do. It can't hurt to tell him why he might have been attacked now."

Undertaker nodded in agreement, getting to his feet and pulling the door open. He held it for William as the dark-haired Head Shinigami walked out and started toward the stairs, and then pulled it closed behind himself. He dreaded telling Grell, as the poor thing was nearly in fits already, but it couldn't be helped; the threat was now imminent, and Grell might not even heal before what they feared finally happened.

He'd really rather not think about that.

He followed William down a walkway adjacent to the stairs to the infirmary, and as they neared the door, Ronald's laughter and Grell's chattering could be heard clearly from inside. Undertaker felt a peculiar feeling deep in his gut, but pushed it aside and chastised himself for thinking in such a way.

Why should he be jealous of Ronald, afterall? He and Grell were just friends. Grell wouldn't be out manhunting if he was with the blond, right?

_And it had better stay that way._ Undertaker thought despite himself as he pushed the door open.

Ronald looked up, his eyes gleaming happily as he did so, a smile etched onto his face. Grell was grinning and stifling giggles, and gently nudged Ronald with his elbow, apparently quite amused.

"That's brilliant, Ronnie, simply brilliant!" He giggled, and Ronald chuckled in agreement, looking a little bashful about whatever they were discussing.

Undertaker felt that feeling again, but he grinned back at them both, hiding his jealousy with ease.

"Hello, Grell. As I said, I brought company." He said simply as William walked inside and stood against the wall, nodding curtly at Ronald, who smiled back at him..

Grell felt anger spark in his chest, and his grin dropped away. He opened his mouth to protest before Undertaker continued."William and I have reached a rather unpleasant conclusion, and we need to discuss it with you, as it's only fair that you know the details."

Grell calmed down as he heard this, though that unpleasant jealousy and the feeling of wanting and not wanting to know what they were getting at mixed in his stomach and made him feel ill. Still, if another woman had walked in, he probably would have gotten out of bed and strangled her, and then beaten the ever-loving heavens out of Undertaker.

"Please leave, Ronald." William said calmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm afraid this information is classified, though you'll probably hear it later on. Still, better safe than sorry, as there's no use spreading it around and causing panic just yet, and I'm afraid I can't trust you enough. Nothing personal."

Ronald's face fell, but he stood up obediently, bowing to the three of them.

"Yes, Sir." He said politely, then did his best to smile in Grell's direction. "I'm glad you're okay, Grell. I hope you're back on your feet soon!"

"Toodles, Ronnie." Grell said, grinning in his direction and waving his fingers daintily. "I can't wait to see what we discussed!"

Ronald laughed and waved back, earnestly forgetting that Grell couldn't see. "Bye, Grell!" He chirped, walking out the door with a bit of a spring in his step. Undertaker felt his eye twitch, and he closed the door a little harder than was necessary, causing the old wood to creak and moan as it slammed shut.

Grell frowned at the noise, then shifted himself to get comfortable. The soreness throughout his body was slowly subsiding, and he could now move a bit more freely and with less pain. William and Undertaker exchanged a brief, pleased look at this, and Undertaker moved back to his usual seat as William replaced himself in Ronald's chair.

"What's up?" Grell asked pleasantly, obviously in a slightly better mood, though Undertaker's actions were still bugging the hell out of him. However, Ronald's visit had cheered him greatly, and he managed to push it aside so he could concentrate on the matter at hand.

"Make yourself comfortable, Grell." William said simply, sitting back in his chair. "This might take awhile."

Grell laid back against the pillow obediently, and he felt Undertaker's ever-vigilant hand take his own. He bit the inside of his lip and struggled not to pull away, his sudden distrust almost winning out. However, he let Undertaker have his way, and simply sat and waited expectantly.

William cleared his throat, and began his tale.

xxx

XD Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I've caught a few snags in the chapters lately. I have the whole plot laid out, but it's getting it done and figuring what to put into chapters that's hard. If I go missing for a few days, I'm probably just out and trying to figure out how to bring you guys the best I can!

Sorry the last few chapters have been rather shoddy and dull. D8 Like I said, I've had a bit of writer's block lately.


	13. History Lesson

Well, I'm officially a complete and utter idiot for not realizing I needed to do this until twelve chapter were already under my belt, but I guess better late than never, huh? XD

I go by a variety of nicknames, including Lee, Maverick, Lee Maverick, Gloves, Arrow, Rat, Bullet, and Maverrat. XD You can call me whatever suits you, I don't mind.

Anyway, the timeline of this story takes place a year after the end of the second season of the anime, when Sebastian and Ciel had left after Ciel became a demon, meaning it's about two years after the Jack the Ripper arc. Basically, not much has changed, but that will change soon enough, heehee...

xxx

"In the year of 1568, the Shinigami library had been up and running for just over three centuries. Ironic as it may seem, Shinigami have been recording history in the form of Cinematic Records from the very beginning of time, but we didn't get a place to keep all of the Records until much later, when the Library was first established. That's where we come in; as the Keepers of the Library as well as Reapers of the Dead.

"But, of course, the Realms weren't limited to just Shinigami and mortals. Demons have been around since Shinigami, and we have always been two species that never quite saw eye-to-eye. But, since the Gods wanted not good and evil between us, but two "gray areas", neither lighter nor darker than the other, we were forced to live with each other's existences, as the balance could only be kept in such a way. That meant that neither Shinigami nor demons were truly good or evil, and they varied between individuals, just as humans do. Unfortunately for us, some demons were far worse than we expected, and we paid dearly for underestimating them.

"In 1568, a swarm of demons ambushed the Library one evening, catching us by complete surprise. They all infiltrated the Realm and appeared around the Library, completely encircling the grounds around it. We were under seige for a short time, and we tried to rationalize and even bargain with the demons. However, it was no use, as they were there for one key reason; if we were eliminated, they'd have free reign to go out and take all the souls they wanted, because we wouldn't be around to reap them first and deprive the demons of unlimited food.

"Finally, when it was clear that we were surrounded but not willing to fight just yet, a demon who I can say with a great amount of confidence was probably their leader gave the order to swarm the Library, which is what gave the attack its name.

"The fight that ensued was extremely bloody, but these demons had one key problem; they didn't even know how to kill us, nor we them. Though we both had the ability to beat the daylights out of each other, the Gods, most likely foreseeing a problem like this, never gave us any sort of information about how to destroy our fellow races. Needless to say, everyone was at a loss, but the Shinigami were feeling triumphant, as it meant that we were there to stay and the demons couldn't do a damn thing about it. It was a huge mistake to jump to such a conclusion."

William's voice suddenly became bleak and distant, and Grell could tell he was recalling painful memories, just by the way he suddenly went silent. He bit his lip gently, so he wouldn't pierce it, then shifted in order to realign his aching hips.

"One of the demons, by a sheer stroke of dumb luck, managed to wrestle away a death scythe from one of the Shinigami. It was a scythe vaguely similar my own, and he stabbed that poor Shinigami through his throat with his own death scythe. Needless to say, he died within seconds. You could tell that the demon was expecting him to get back up, but when his eyes glazed over like that..."

William supressed a shudder, closing his eyes to calm himself, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. He took a slow breath, and Grell felt his throat clench and threaten to close. He felt ill again, and what he was hearing didn't help in the very least.

He was almost wishing he wasn't hearing this now.

"All hell broke loose from there." William continued grimly. "Once the hellion realized that that officer wasn't getting up, the idea caught on quickly. It was an unfair fight, as we Shinigami still didn't know how to kill _them_, but they knew how to end us.

"It was an extremely bloody, violent battle. Almost a thousand Shinigami died that night, which is the real tragedy, since there were only a thousand Shinigami and a thousand demons created by the Gods to begin with, and I was the only one there who was born by the hands of my own kind. But, one person in particular figured out how to fight back. That person was Undertaker."

Grell felt Undertaker shift awkwardly, and the older Shinigami mumbled something that was inaudible, and yet rung with humility.

"It was his idea to start cutting the Cinematic Records." William said simply. "There was only about a dozen of us left at that point, and we all split up to go fight the demons that were searching every part of the Library for the last few of us. By some miracle, we managed to take down those demons who were still able to get up and walk, as many had been too injured by our comrades to even manage that anymore. The rest of us cut down roughly fourty mobile demons by ourselves, and then we took down the several hundred who lay strewn over the grand floors of our Library.

"But, out of those dozen, only two survived the final battle. Those are the two you're speaking with right now."

"So..." Grell said weakly, his mind whirring from what he'd just been told. "...You and Undertaker...?"

"Are the only veterans of that battle, yes." William said softly, and Grell felt a shiver run up his spine at William's explanation.

"Undertaker is the oldest living Shinigami in existence. He's been here since, literally, the very beginning of time. He is the only one of us to be created by the Gods themselves, and he's definitely the only original left. I'm second oldest, but no one ever cares about the vice president, now do they?" William said, his voice sounding a tad amused, and, slightly bitter. "I am merely a creation of Undertaker's, an apprentice that he took on one day when he found a soul with a Cinematic Record that struck his fancy. He saw me as a worthy person to be a reaper, and he created me by taking my soul and, instead of reaping it, shaping it into what I am now. For that, I am forever in his debt, as he trained me and taught me all that I know now."

"No need for thanks, William." Undertaker chuckled. "You _are _technically the oldest now, as I'm retired, remember?" He teased, wagging a finger at William. "Besides, you certainly turned out to be a very delightful apprentice, and you've shaped yourself into a fine Shinigami. I'm happy to let you fill my shoes, and you've certainly done a good job of that. We may not be what we used to, but we're getting there."

William coughed awkwardly, humbled by Undertaker's praise, and feeling a little sheepish about his "vice-president" comment. He hadn't heard him say something like that since he'd taken over, and it made him feel both pleased and a little strange, as Grell was around to hear it.

"Regardless, we're still young in body, hm?" Undertaker said cheerily, and William forced down a smile. "We're lucky because we stay young, no matter how many centuries we live through. Neither our nor our demon counterparts' bodies ever age."

Grell did his best to keep from blushing. Oh, how well _he _knew that the Undertaker was still very spry, indeed...

"Eventually, we built the ranks back up by finding souls that were good candidates for Shinigami, and morphing them into officers." William continued, readjusting his glasses and doing his best not to look embarrassed. "Well, actually, I did that. But, Undertaker did pass many good, suitable souls along to me, and he taught me just how to do it, as it was a trick that only those descended from the Gods were born with the knowledge of. You, Sutcliff, were one of my first, and I will admit that I messed up on your teeth a little..."

Grell was at first a tad surprised to learn that William had morphed him into a Shinigami after death, but his shock instantly turned to pouting at William's comment.

"I like my teeth!" He protested, crossing his arms as best he could with the heavy cast about his wrist. "They're hidden weapons and they're just add to my lethal beauty, silly William. I don't mind your so-called 'mistake' in the least. In fact, they're my one of my favorite features, second only to my wonderfully red hair."

"Watch your tone, Sutcliff." William growled softly. "Injured or not, I'm still willing to give you double shifts again when you're back on your feet. Don't test me."

Grell clamped his jaw shut, and Undertaker let out a snort of laughter.

"Now, traditionally and for good reason, when a Shinigami creates another, they're supposed to form a very snug student-teacher bond. The apprentice learns absolutely everything about reaping from the older Shinigami, and it can take many years to do so. Learning specific self-defense and combat techniques, the exact and safest way to reap the dead... It's all quite a bit to learn, and it can take years before an officer is ready to be sent out into the field. Therefore, a Shinigami was never supposed to take on more than two or three apprentices at a time, as it's almost like raising children.

"However, I had to find a way to find souls and start the entire Shinigami species back over from scratch. It was no easy task, and work was piling up more and more every day. How is a lone Shinigami supposed to handle all the deaths and reapings that take place on a daily basis by themself? Undertaker had retired as soon as he'd recooperated, for personal reasons," William said simply, shooting a wary glance over at Undertaker and relaxing when Undertaker nodded politely at him to continue. "And I was, for the most part, left on my own. Undertaker was still there to help me and provide advice and support, but he'd sworn off reaping. So, after learning the trick to morphing souls and finding several dozen that I deemed suitable, I created exactly 132 Shinigami within the span of about twenty years, who are still working here now, and I've created about a dozen more since then. The sad thing is, I was not able to properly train you as all Undertaker had trained me, because I was literally the last Shinigami and I needed help then and there. As you know for yourself, Sutcliff, I showed you the basics and let you figure it out for yourself from there. It was a trial-and-error process that was frustrating for all of us, but there was nothing that could be done. In an effort to try and keep everyone in line and help us all keep our work together and our heads on straight, I decided that if I could manage apprenticeships, running the Library like an office was the next-best thing I had.

"Also, there's a key problem with suitable souls being hard to come by. Unless I reap them myself, I can't determine whether or not they're usuable, unless I spend hours upon hours scouring through books, which is a problem in itself, as doing that leaves gaps in family lineages, and it can mess up future research attempts. The problem with having other Shinigami bring decent-looking souls to me is that it would be too much hassle and take too much time out of all of our schedules, and the Death Ledgers would back up horribly, even worse than now. Also, the Swarm's history has been a bit... _blotched _in the records, so to speak.

"I was and still am paranoid about the demons returning and infiltrating the Library once again. If they found the information of how we could be killed in our own records, they could use it against us yet again. On the other hand, if they explained how demons themselves could be killed, the demons could probably figure out how to kill us themselves, the slimey weasels. Therefore, methods of how reapers and demons were killed were removed from the records, and the papers are now highly confidential and so censored that you'd had have to have been at the battle to put the pieces together and know exactly what had happened for them to be even th slightest bit useful. I also dared not defy the Gods or risk everyone again and make it common knowledge that the death scythes are much deadlier than they appear, as both were putting everyone at risk for a secondary attack. Should one Shinigami lose his temper and kill a demon, or vice versa, it could launch another all-out war, and I'm not willing to risk you all for that."

"But, back to the matter at hand." Undertaker chimed in, stroking slow circles on the back of Grell's hand with his nails. "So Grell can understand how he is involved in all of this."

"Of course." William agreed, straightening his glasses absently. "What we were concerned about before was whether or not this attack is a sign of a recurrence of the Swarm. All the demons who were present at the battle were the only ones who knew of the death scythe secret, as they'd discovered it by sheer dumb luck. We were sure we'd killed their leader, and though the secret would have lived on, we weren't expecting the single demon we knew to have survived to try anything once again, because he knew that we knew how to end him, as well, and assumed that he would also attempt to keep the secret from his own men. We knew there was only one demon left because, as I said, there were a thousand demons and a thousand Shinigami to begin with, plus myself, and all of us had been present at the battle. Undertaker and I counted up nine hundred and ninety-nine demon bodies, and since one demon survived, we knew he could build back his own population in order to maintain the balance."

Undertaker sighed darkly, sounding troubled. Grell felt his throat swell a bit with emotion, and he squeezed Undertaker's hand lightly, encouraging him to go on, but fearing what he would say next.

"I dream often about what happened to this day." He said simply, his free hand reaching up and stroking one of his many stitched scars. "I would be dead if it weren't for William's stitches and quick thinking. Up to this point, I'd always thought that I'd killed the lead demon... the one who nearly ended me, as he'd been the one who'd slit my throat. That made the scars almost worth it, and my retirement seemed justified.

"However, just a very short while ago, my dreams told me something very unsettling; I missed his Cinematic Record."

"Which means..." Grell breathed, feeling his heart thud harder and his hands go clammy with fear.

"He was not one of the blind followers as we had assumed, he was the leader, and the single demon that got away, and he's most likely leading a new assault on the Library. You were probably the first victim of another war, Grell, and, apparently he's taught at least one of those he's created what he knows... and probably many more."

Grell went pale, and William's grim voice met his ears.

"He was the only demon to survive, apparently, and he's probably recreated Hell just as I have recreated the Library, only he has most likely manipulated everyone into buying into his world-conquering train of thought. Now we need to infiltrate the Demon Realm, and find out when and how they're attacking, and see if we elminate them before they make the first move. But, they can tell the difference in spiritual traces between humans, fellow demons, and Shinigami, just like we can. We're forbidden from their Realm just as they're forbidden from ours. Going down there is suicide. We need someone who can go down there for us, or we need to find a way to lure them out."

Grell let out a low sigh, going silent as he thought. He was feeling a little overwhelmed by the flood of information, and was finding it a little hard to think clearly. Undertaker looked at William, who closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to wring an answer out of himself for the hundred-thousandth time.

"If only Sebas-chan and his little brat were still around." Grell finally grumbled, at just as much of a loss as the older Shinigami. "They'd probably help us... Only, the brat's dead, so Sebastian is probably in on this whole scheme..."

Undertaker froze, staring at the wall as though it had just learned to dance and was now beginning to Cha-Cha toward them.

"...I change my mind, William. I must be getting old afterall."

"Hm?" William asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Undertaker folded his hands around Grell's, chewing his lip and feeling utterly foolish.

"I never received Phantomhive's body. Considering how I was his informant and even the Queen knew, before she died, that I assisted him very often and that I was a trusted ally, I assumed his body would arrive at my doorstep the day he traded his soul. Well, I never received it, and we all know a demon is after the souls of the living, not the flesh of them."

William stared at him long and had, and then slowly spoke.

"They're still out there."

xxx

WOOO I finally get to drag everyone's favorite demons back in. XD Here we go!

Please tell me if I left any plotholes behind. ;w; That was very long and I confused myself writing it, lol. I couldn't work on it until later today because I was swamped with schoolwork and I'm tiiiiiired, so sorry for the late update!

Critique please!


	14. Mistaken Identity

Things were beginning to boil over, and he didn't like it. Not in the least.

For one, he was really damn new to all of this, even if it now seemed like he knew far more than the idiots surrounding him. Still, having everyone staring at him all the time was unsettling, especially knowing that if _he_ weren't at his side, he probably would have been raped, maimed, or outright killed quite awhile ago (the last of which he'd been advised to prevent by way of keeping his human form at all times. He had no complaints). The fact that he wasn't like them in many, many ways only added to these overshadowing threats, and, therefore, his butler was absolutely glued to his side these days, even more so than he had been before. No exceptions.

Hearing all of this nonsense was starting to really irritate him, especially since he knew, at the very least, how the laws of the worlds worked, and if they succeeded in their idiotic little plot, they'd all die. It was quite sad how it seemed that only the outsider-and his lackey-seemed to realize this; and, being the outsider and his lackey, their protests-however passive-aggressive and even submissive, as anything else would have them beaten within an inch of their lives and/or killed-went completely ignored.

Ciel couldn't have them ending themselves, and everyone around them, just like that. Not when he'd just become a demon. Why, things were just getting interesting! One game was completed, but another was just beginning.

He wasn't about to let them ruin that.

"Sebastian," The young demon said calmly as they walked away from the meeting house of the Demon Realm, where some of the most idiotic dribble he'd heard yet had just been spoken. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes, Young Master." Sebastian said grimly, brow furrowed slightly with thought, and, perhaps, even a bit of concern. "I must agree; they don't know what they're getting into. This can't have a pleasant ending, especially since they wouldn't listen to a word we said. Again."

"You should do something about that." Ciel said bluntly. "Otherwise we're all going to die, and I won't have them ruining my fun before it's even started."

Ciel had grown slightly in the year since he became a demon, though he was still very much a child. The bodies of all immortal beings age until they complete growth, which meant that most, if not all, demons and Shinigami were aged in body somewhere between 23 and 27, but no more, or less. However, since most demons and Shinigami were created as fully-fledged adults, Ciel was the first demon to be having growth spurts since... well, _ever._

He'd grown about three inches (though, that didn't really change much; a fact that Sebastian was more than happy to point out, whenever the opportunity arose), and his shoulders were beginning to broaden out slightly. He was just beginning to lose the childish roundness of his boyhood, and was now starting to develop into a lithe, handsome teenager. However, much to Sebastian's amusement and/or utter horror, his attitude hadn't changed a _bit. _He was still the self-assured, cocky, smartass little kid he'd always been, and he showed absolutely no sign of changing.

And Sebastian was officially his bitch for Eternity.

Now _that_ definitely horrified Sebastian, and it showed in the way he didn't wear that cocky smile of his quite so much anymore. Ciel Phantomhive had snatched it, right along with his freedom, and _he_ was usually the one wearing it these days.

Sebastian glanced around, making sure no one was around to hear him, before kneeling down slightly to whisper in Ciel's ear. (As he was still much too short to compete with Sebastian's height.)

"Shall we pay a visit to some old pawns... of the immortal variety?"

Ciel snorted, pausing and tapping his chin thoughtfully, one cerulean eye focused upward (as he often covered the other to avoid drawing too much attention to himself; the other demons delighted in mocking the two of them for their permanent seals). The ex-earl wasn't hot on the idea of traveling, as he'd traveled the whole of Europe as a human, and then a good deal of the mortal Realm as a demon. He'd grown bored, and the Demon Realm, closed-in and shut-off though it was, proved to have plenty of amusement in store for him, even if his fellow species were proving to be a bit of a hazard. Indeed, demons who lived for eternity had ways of coming up with things to do to keep themselves amused, some of them being so wildly creative and entertaining that even Ciel openly enjoyed them, and Ciel didn't want to go through the trouble of hunting people down and missing the fun back home, however sparse it was. Still, it couldn't be helped, and the promise of a new game was incentive enough.

"Very well. Take me there, Sebastian." Ciel commanded.

Sebastian bowed slightly, his hand against his chest, just like the old days.

"Yes, my Lord."

Ciel found himself being scooped up and carried bridal-style as Sebastian took off at a swift run, taking a more isolated path to avoid as much attention as possible. Ciel readjusted his eyepatch and crossed his arms, waiting a little impatiently as Sebastian did his job.

Sebastian came to a halt at a wall. Readjusting his grip on Ciel and placing his hand against the wall, he closed his eyes and, just as the Shinigami had done, opened a portal and phased through, his young lord in tow.

He stepped forward, nonchalantly traversing through the very Realms themselves, and quietly touched foot on the tiled marble of the Library floor.

All hell broke loose.

000

Grell knew what presence he felt as soon as it showed itself, as it seemed to pierce a hole in the calm, homely feeling of being surrounded by his kin, and fill it in with dread. He tightened his grip on Undertaker's hand so much that he heard the Older Shinigami's knuckles crack, though, the older reaper had gone strangely silent himself, and didn't make a peep.

No, it _couldn't _be...

The next thing he knew, he heard rapid footsteps outside, in the hall, and the door exploded open and slammed back against the wall with a loud _crack!_ Grell shrieked and sat bolt upright, much to Undertaker's distress, as the elder Shinigami immediately grabbed him and forced him halfway down, cringing when Grell whimpered in both pain and utter terror. Never, _ever_ before had he been so vulnerable, and, even now, surrounded by people who could protect him, he felt nothing short of horrified. Should they leave him, or should something even _worse_ happen, he wouldn't be able to defend himself in the slightest.

"Sir!" Ronald cried to William, his glasses askew and his chest heaving, his bright eyes wide with fear. "Demons in the Library!"

William's chair crashed against the ground as he leapt to his feet and tore out the door, Ronald hot on his heels.

"What? WHAT!" Grell cried, heart slamming so hard that his injured ribs literally throbbed. Undertaker didn't answer, but Grell was suddenly scooped up and whisked into the air, much to his horror and complete confusion. Undertaker held him bridal-style, carrying him across the room swiftly, every step sharp and clipped.

"Keep silent, Grell." Undertaker said grimly. Grell obediently held still, as he was completely unable to tell where they were going, and flailing would probably just get him in trouble. It hurt too much to try, anyway.

There was a creak of rusty hinges, and a low grunt of exertion from Undertaker.

...Then Grell felt himself falling.

Undertaker, expecting Grell's scream, clapped a hand over the redhead's mouth as he stepped out of the open window, his partner in tow. With practiced ease, he touched one buckled boot to the edge of the building and pushed them further out into the air as they began to hurtle toward the ground.

By now, Grell was in a full-blown panic, and his nails dug painfully into Undertaker's arms, even through the robe he was wearing, causing Undertaker's eyes to water slightly. Well, at _least _Grell wasn't biting his hand or something, even though he was pretty damn sure he was bleeding now.

He forced it to the back of his mind, pushing off another wall as they nearly collided with it. This actually slowed their momentum slightly, as Undertaker cleverly dug his heel into the wall in the split second that he touched it, slowing their free-fall. Grell, however, couldn't tell the difference, and his nails continued to bite into Undertaker's arms, a whimper of panic building up and rising out of his throat.

He ricocheted off of two more walls, their speed slowing with each, and then touched foot on the outstretched overhang of a door, coming to a sudden stop. Though he did his best to keep from jarring Grell too much, he still cringed when Grell let out a weak yelp, and he shot the redhead an unseen, apologetic look.

Grell had felt his stomach in his throat as they fell, then it seemed to drop to his groin as they landed. He felt completely and utterly sick, and he heaved, clenching his teeth to keep from vomiting entirely. He could taste the sick taste of bile in his throat, and it simply made him heave again, his nails somehow digging even deeper into Undertaker's arm as he struggled to keep himself under control.

Undertaker grimaced, but right then, he couldn't do anything to help. Right now, he was fighting with himself, trying to decide whether he wanted to make the same choice that he made the last time he was in a position like this.

If the results were the same, it wouldn't be worth the chance to tear apart a demon. Not in the slightest.

Finally, after fighting with himself for several long moments, he decided that he was needed much more urgently in the Library, and that hiding Grell was much safer for the redhead, as he would be in a place that Undertaker knew was secure. It wouldn't be out in the open, leaving him vulnerable and wide-open to attack, so the past couldn't possibly repeat itself... right?

He desperately hoped not.

He leapt from the overhead and took off at a run, rounding a corner and coming to a dead-end wall, located in a part of the Library that was sectioned off, not unlike the way the alley Grell had been attacked in was. (The very thought of _that_ made a shiver crawl down Undertaker's spine.)

Well, this one only _appeared_ to be sectioned off.

He carefully set Grell down in the corner, leaving the poor redhead to cover his mouth with his hand and continue to dry-heave. Shooting a worried look back at him, Undertaker then walked briskly to the wall and grabbed three bricks, sliding them easily to the side. He grabbed three more and did the same, then moved another two, revealing a hidden, thick black door, embedded deep into the wall of the Library.

He turned and scooped up Grell again, shouldering the door open to a tiny, long-abandoned storage closet that was cut off from the rest of the world entirely. It was very dark and rather dusty, and the only way in or out was by using the long-hidden door. It had been originally built to keep spare scythes in, but after the Swarm, William now had much tighter security around them, and they were hidden away in an even more remote, secret part of the Library these days. Still, only William and Undertaker himself knew about this room, so he was sure that Grell would be safe here for now.

Or, at least, very desperately hoping.

"I'm sorry, m'dear, but this can't be avoided." He said hastily, his voice low and urgent. "Stay very quiet, I'll return for you as soon as this is taken care of."

"But-!"

Undertaker tilted Grell's head back and pressed their lips together in a brief but earnest kiss of farewell. Grell blushed hard, then gasped in disappointment as Undertaker pulled away regretfully. If he didn't come back, that was all Grell would have left to remember him by...

"Stay very quiet," Undertaker repeated gravely, grasping the door with his hand. "And keep very still. Don't let a single soul hear you, Okay? You'll be fine, I promise."

Grell nodded weakly, quivering slightly as he did so. This was bad, bad bad _bad..._

Undertaker pulled the door closed and quickly slid the false bricks back into place. To help make it more realistic, he grabbed a nearby trashbin and turned it over before the door, the sparse litter spilling forth adding to the illusion of an empty, abandoned alleyway.

He took off toward the main entrance of the Library. As he ran, he held out his hand, and his massive death scythe materialized from thin air. His fingers closed around it, and a snarl of determination implanted itself on his face. He was determined to get revenge for what had happened, and he was going to make sure that it _did not_ happen again.

Whoever had waltzed in was about to get royally fucked up.

000

The next thing Sebastian knew, he was ducking as a death scythe cracked the wall behind him like a cheap china plate. Acting on instinct, he didn't bother to risk himself or the young demon in his grasp further by trying to locate his attacker. He darted to the side instead, streaking behind several bookcases like a rogue mouse evading a house cat.

Ciel was alert in his arms now, but still fairly relaxed in Sebastian's care, trusting him enough not to panic. Instead, he was enjoying his first-hand view of the fight, knowing no harm would come to him, lest Sebastian lose his head.

Literally.

"Well, what a warm welcome." Ciel said dryly, rolling his eyes as Sebastian nimbly jumped over a scythe swung at his feet. "They're simply overjoyed to be getting some help."

Sebastian smirked, leaping to the top of one of the bookcases in a simple bound, and then jumped high into the air, feet outstretched to reach the second floor balcony.

The death scythe that had originally put a few cracks in the wall appeared again, and this time, it caught his coattail and ripped it clean off. An irritated hiss to rose out of the demon as it made him lose momentum, and he just barely managed to land on the railing of the overhead balcony, tottering precariously as he fought to keep from falling back down.

The death scythe, which appeared to be an overlong branch-trimmer, whistled back to where it had come from, and angry shouts rang out across the floor below as Shinigami began pooling out onto the first floor from what appeared to be duel wings flanking the underside of the grand staircase to Sebastian's right.

Sebastian jumped from the railing to the floor of the balcony, and, upon hearing the sound of a very sharp blade whistling through the air, he promptly spun in a quick circle and launched Ciel high into the air in the same movement.

Ciel, startled this time, let out a quiet cry as he flew upwards, his coat catching on an overhead nail. He was left hanging from the ceiling, well out of harm's way, swaying slightly from the shock of stopping, and from the drafts coming up from below him.

Sebastian whirled to his side, his knives drawn from his inner coat in the same instant. The massive, three-and-a-half foot long blade that had been there to greet him when he touched foot on the balcony shaved downwards, just by his head, clipping a few stray hairs in its wake.

Sebastian launched himself into the air, hurtling the four knives at his assailant in the same instant. There was the sound of metal impacting fabric, but Sebastian didn't have time to see what he hit before his attacker was in the air before him, that massive blade whipping sideways now, clearly intending to cleave Sebastian in half.

Sebastian, quick as ever, drew up his legs and placed his feet against the blade, pushing himself up and over and backflipping gracefully, his shoes clicking against the floor as he landed again, eyes glowing pink-red with anger born of the heat of battle.

He heard the sound of boots thudding against the floor, but before he could draw his forks, the branch-trimmer death scythe from before seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sebastian gasped as the sharp blades cut lightly into either side of his throat, slamming him back into the wall and pinning him firmly there.

There was a loud, almost unearthly snarl of fury, and that second, massive, curved blade swung through the air once again, headed directly for Sebastian's head.

Sebastian, thinking quickly, reached out and caught the blade with his hands a split-second before it could tear him in two. Unable to completely stop it, however, he changed it's trajectory by forcing it sideways, and he winced as the tip of the scythe made a second cut in his coat, stopping just short of the flesh of his shoulder.

He flicked his eyes forward, fangs bared in threatening defiance, and finally, predator-and-prey met eye-to-eye.

...And a very awkward, brief silence ensued.

"...Hello, Undertaker." Sebastian said dryly, his half-lidded eyes and cold smile becoming just the same as ever when he recognized the Shinigami before him, though there was a bit of a bitter note to his voice.

Undertaker was frowning in surprise, looking at first a little puzzled, and then a massive grin split his face, and he stepped back, harmlessly removing the scythe from Sebastian's grip as he went.

"Earl~!" He chortled. "And your butler! Ah, wonderful, much better than what I was expecting!" He said, tapping Sebastian's nose with one nail and earning a small grunt of disdain in return, as the butler was still immobilized and unable to dodge the touch. "I apologize for that... William!" He called, grabbing the death scythe that was pinning Sebastian and pulling it away. "False alarm, everyone!" He called down to the Shinigami below them, who were all staring up at them with expressions that varied from anger to bewilderment to curiosity.

William retracted his death scythe, emerging from his place on the balcony opposite of where Sebastian, Undertaker, and Ciel were. He jumped from the railing of that balcony and landed next to Undertaker, who was now hatless, thanks to Sebastian's knives.

"Wonderful." William said dryly, shooting a pointed glare at Sebastian, who promptly returned the look. In truth, he was now fuming, as this meant that he wouldn't get to kick any demon ass just yet. "I'm ecstatic."

Sebastian rubbed his neck where William's scythe had cut into it, a few beads of scarlet blood at the skin, but nothing more. Undertaker tapped his chin thoughtfully with one overlong nail, a pleased smirk on his face.

"Gufufu~ I'm impressed, Butler." He giggled, tilting his head and grinning at Sebastian, whose frown deepened just a hint. "Not only do you show up when we need your assistance, but you also prove to be an entertaining opponent. Nicely done."

"I aim to please." Sebastian said calmly, smiling coolly back. He'd taken up this new phrase, as he was no longer the butler of the Phantomhive estate, so his old saying didn't quite suit his fancy anymore. "But, sometimes I shoot to kill."

"Which makes me glad that my hat isn't a vital organ~!" Undertaker chuckled, reaching over and pulling out the knife that pinned his hat to one of the white, wooden rails enclosing the balcony. "Though, I'd appreciate it if you didn't damage it anymore, regardless. I am quite fond of it."

Undertaker raised his scythe again, but this time, he hooked it carefully about Ciel's jacket, making the garment pull free of the nail.

Ciel gasped with shock as he fell, but Sebastian's arms were there to meet him, saving him from a painful landing on the hard floor below. Sebastian smirked at Ciel, who glared in return, and then put his young master carefully on his feet, dusting down his jacket for him.

"Excellent timing, as usual." Undertaker said with a grin, replacing his hat on his head. He looked to William and nudged him lightly, causing William, now in an ever fouler mood, to turn his scowl up at Undertaker.

"I should really go and fetch Grell, then. You take care of our guests." He said pleasantly, a smile of ease on his face. William's eye twitched, but he nodded shortly, and Undertaker jumped from the balcony and ran swiftly for the main doors, the surprised crowd of Shinigami parting to let him pass. William was left to an awkward chat with one of his least favorite beings in existence: a demon.

And now there were _two_ of them. Joy.

000

Grell was having a full-blown panic attack.

His uninjured arm covered his mouth, stifling his terrified gasps as he hyperventilated, sweat sheeting his body as he sat in darkness. His heart was beating so loudly that he was sure the horde of demons he imagined outside could hear him, and that they were about to tear down the door and torture him to his last breath.

The room was tiny, as Grell could barely stretch his legs out without his feet touching the opposite wall. It smelled musty and old, and it really, _really_ didn't help that Grell had finally given up and gotten sick in the corner. He was glad that he hadn't eaten much in the last three days, as he was pretty sure the mess would be a lot worse if he had.

He jumped when he heard the sound of the trashcan being kicked aside, then the false bricks sliding. His heart skipped a beat and then sped up wildly as the sound of the old door creaking open met his ears. A terrified whimper escaped him, and his body began trembling uncontrollably.

"Hush, hush, darling..." A familiar voice soothed, and Grell let out a low cry of relief as he felt Undertaker's fingers run through his hair affectionately. Before he even knew what he was doing, Grell got to his feet, staggering like a newborn colt as he moved, and gasping in pain as his aching nerves and muscles seemed to shriek in protest. Regardless, he clumsily threw his arms around Undertaker's neck, shaking with relief as he clung to the taller Shinigami for support... of both the literal and psychological kind.

Undertaker wrapped his arm around Grell, the other reaching up and stroking his hair lovingly, trying his best to soothe away Grell's terrified trembles. He sounded genuinely surprised when he spoke, but also very, very pleased.

"Oh, my my, this day is turning out much better than I thought it would. I really wasn't expecting you to be able to do that for at _least_ another two days."

"D-don't underestimate me!" Grell growled back weakly, nipping the side of Undertaker's neck to accentuate his point, but being careful of his teeth, and not drawing blood, or even causing him any real pain. Undertaker laughed, softly, and kissed Grell's cheek, sounding twice as pleased as before.

"Ah, you've been acting like such a frightened kitten lately that I was beginning to get concerned that you lost your spark~." He teased. Grell growled a little louder than he had before, and nipped Undertaker again, this time hard enough to cause Undertaker a faint wince, as Grell had hit a particularly sensitive spot just below the row of stitches across his throat. Undertaker smiled, though, and twisted a lock of Grell's hair around his finger. Ah, yes, _that _was the Grell he knew...

"I'm just nervous because I can't see!" Grell whined, pouting and laying his head against Undertaker's chest, the last shivers of fear easing from his body at the feeling of the strong Shinigami gently hugging him closer. "It's not my fault!"

"I know, I know." Undertaker soothed, suddenly swooping Grell into his arms again and causing a small cry of surprise to emit from him, though Grell blushed at the same time, showing he wasn't hurt. "And I'm sure all these horror stories and false alarms aren't helping, either."

"False alarms?" Grell asked, sounding surprised this time.

Undertaker chuckled happily, and walked back outside, closing the door with his foot. "Yes, it seems the Earl and his Butler came looking for us. They mean no harm, however, and it was simply a case of mistaken identity on our part. It's actually very fortunate, really, because we probably never would have found them otherwise. Not without using brute force, at least."

Grell felt relief wash over him, and Undertaker smirked as Grell relaxed immediately in his arms, his spine taking on the consistency of puddy.

"Well, that's good. It means I have some more time to heal up so that I can fight with everyone else when they really _do _get here." Grell said against Undertaker's neck, obviously much more relaxed, judging by the way he sounded a tad bit tired now; most likely from all the sudden excitement.

Undertaker smiled fondly, heading back toward the main doors of the Library. Thinking of Grell fighting worried him, but hearing him say something like that was a massive relief. Undertaker would have been very disappointed if Grell had lost his attitude due to the trauma of the attack. However, it seemed like it had made Grell even more hardheaded and saucy, as the redhead sounded downright determined to pick himself back up and kick some demonic ass.

Undertaker was perfectly fine with that.

xxx

FINALLY a chapter with action instead of just talking. XD That was much easier to write, lol. I like action-y things better, and I'm sure you guys do too!

Sadly, though, talking must always butt in sometimes. Still, I'll try to make those chapters go as quickly as possible for the sake of all of us.

Critique please!


	15. Time Will Stand Still

D8 Sorry for not posting yesterday, guys, but my router was on the fritz and I couldn't get online at all.

Out of curiosity, just how many people are reading? I know the last few chapters haven't really had all that much happening, so I'm worried that I may be losing readers. If you've been following the story, could you please leave a comment that says "here" or just something simple like that? :) It doesn't have to be a huge review, I'm just curious as to how many people I'm trying to please, lol.

Also, if you want to request a pairing for later in this story (or for others if I can't fit it in here) feel free to do so! This is my first fanfic, but I doubt it will be my last. :P

xxx

Grell was very relieved to find that Undertaker's pace was carefree and far more gentle this time, and he didn't feel any effects of the motion sickness he'd had earlier. Emptying his stomach had probably helped as well, but he preferred not to think about that.

Undertaker nudged open the main doors of the Library, carrying Grell carefully toward the stairs that led to the second floor. Above, William looked over the balcony at him, his face strained in such a way that told Undertaker that he wasn't pleased with being left to converse with the two demons. Not. At. _All._

Undertaker grinned up at him, and was rather amused by his paranoia. Undertaker trusted the Earl very much, as he'd worked with his forefathers, and this kid was just like them. Frankly, Ciel had never given him a reason not to trust him, and, therefore, Undertaker's information had always been as honest and accurate as he could manage. The fact that Sebastian was on a very short leash while Ciel was around meant that Undertaker didn't have a reason not to trust him while he was under Ciel's orders, either. However, if he had been working alone, Undertaker would have been much, _much _less at ease around him. Though Sebastian had never been quite unkind to him, there had always been something about him that was all-too familiar, and, very disturbing. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he was an adult demon who was probably over a century old, and he therefore posed a threat to any Shinigami. Regardless, Undertaker always kept a careful eye on him especially, just to be sure.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." Undertaker chortled, gently readjusting Grell in his arms as he climbed the stairs. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Willie."

William looked very unimpressed, and Undertaker could see his eye twitching.

"I'm really quite shocked that _you're _the one who's so at ease around them." William said dryly, nodding towards Grell's injured form for emphasis. Undertaker frowned a bit, rather offended that William had gone so far as to use that tactic to prove his point.

Grell, while still badly bruised and scratched all over, was healing quickly and looking much better than he had two days ago, when William and Undertaker had first found him. Undertaker was still concerned about him, but his stitches were taking well, and his attitude was still there, as bright and fierce as before, if not even more so. He certainly hadn't lost his fighting ability, nor his zest for life.

"Well, William," Undertaker countered pointedly, reaching the top of the stairs and walking towards the trio. "The fact that I trust them, taking Grell's condition into consideration, should be enough to tell you that you should perhaps be a tad... more _polite _to them."

"I sooner give them my scythe." William snorted with obvious disdain, and Undertaker rolled his eyes as William pushed past him and walked rapidly down the stairs, his back straight as a ramrod, his shoulders tight with tension.

"He'll get over it." Undertaker said wistfully to himself, though he was frowning a little more deeply than his tone would have suggested. Turning his attention to Ciel, however, his smile slipped back into it's usual place, and he looked far calmer than William had. "So, Earl, what brings you here?"

Ciel had been staring intently at Grell's form, and finally glanced up at the question, blinking with mild surprise. Grell, having been getting the feeling of being stared at, turned his head in Ciel's general direction and bared his fangs, his voice a low growl.

"Stop staring. They're battlescars, you brat."

Ciel, taken aback by the fact that Grell was even conscious, much less able to cop an attitude, took a small, indignant step back and frowned with displeasure, brow knitted as he reverted back to his usual, serious demeanor, all traces of concern or worry gone.

"Really, Grell! Between you and William... _Tch,_ no wonder..." Undertaker grumbled, hefting Grell lightly as he chided him. "Mind your manners, else we may not get what we need."

"Judging by his condition," Sebastian cut in smoothly, looking a bit bemused. Whether it was from their banter or from seeing Grell in his current state, Undertaker couldn't tell, but either way, it irritated him a little. "You want information, correct?"

"It sounds as if you know something." Undertaker said with a knowing grin. "Follow me, then, and we'll discuss this over some tea. I'm sure we both have tales to tell."

Undertaker, quick as ever, had forgone the small pathway beside them and, instead, stepped onto the railing next to the stairs and leapt across to the right-hand balcony where the infirmary lay, just as soon as the sentence had left his lips. Sebastian swooped up Ciel (who didn't even make a noise, having gotten used to being scooped up and carried about like a kitten without even a warning quite some time ago) and followed promptly, landing just a second after Undertaker. Grell, however, was startled by the sudden movement, and dug his nails deep into Undertaker's arm again, causing Undertaker to grit his teeth as the old marks smarted.

Undertaker did his best to ignore it, and instead pushed open the infirmary door and walked in, setting Grell back down on his bed. Grell, still very displeased with being seen in his current condition and being tossed about willy-nilly, crossed his arms and pouted, feeling uncomfortable as he felt Ciel, deep in thought, begin to stare once again.

Finally, Grell decided that he'd had enough. If only he could reach out and smack that brat without Sebas-chan seeing...

"I guess you'll want to know what happened, brat?" He asked sourly, his upper lip curling back with disdain. "If it'll only keep the eye have you left from staring at me. How rude!"

Ciel looked very displeased at this, but Sebastian cut in once again, obviously trying to hold off an argument, as being in the Library without so many Shinigami on edge around them honestly made him a bit nervous.

"I think we may actually have a vague idea, Grell. I did see a demon coming in the other day with a very noticeably damaged shoulder, and he was carrying what appeared to be one of your scissors. It looked like you put up quite a fight..."

"Oooh, Sebas-chan, you'd always be one to notice!" Grell giggled, obviously flattered now. Undertaker felt the grin immediately fade from his face, and he _"accidentally" _knocked his book from its place at the bedside table, causing everyone to look at him when it slammed against the floor.

He didn't mind it so much when Grell flirted with Sebastian in order to get a rise out of him (he found it quite funny, actually) but whenever he began accepting the demon's compliments, or gushing over him in earnest, Undertaker had always gotten a sharp pang of jealousy somewhere deep in his chest.

"He was indeed attacked." Undertaker said calmly, diving to reclaim the book and coming back up with his usual grin. "While we weren't able to find the culprit, we did, obviously, manage to save Grell. Upon confirmation of some rather serious past issues, we were just debating how we were going to get into the Demon Realm and investigate what was going on when you showed up and gave us a bit of a scare, Earl."

"I'm no longer an Earl." Ciel said bluntly, sitting in the chair and crossing his legs. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me that. However, I _do _still request your assistance, Undertaker."

"Just like old times, eh?" Undertaker chuckled, leaning on the side of Grell's bed. "Well, then it shall be an eye for an eye, even if you only have one to give, as we Shinigami are very much in need of help."

"Then you can have Sebastian's proverbial eye, Undertaker, as I'm only here to play a game." Ciel said calmly, a small smile playing upon his lips. "My old game came to an end long ago, unfortunately, but it seems as though a new one is being set up for me."

His cerulean blue eye blazed red momentarily, and Undertaker tilted his head to the side, sizing up his tiny acquaintance.

"Well, Ciel, " He said calmly, adjusting his hat slightly as he spoke. "I won't say no to playing pawn once again, as it's far more interesting than sitting around and maneuvering the pieces. Consider this one free of charge."

"I see we've reached an agreement." Ciel said, his eye half-open, his smile cold and calculating as he once again got his way. "Sebastian, go."

"In the Realm of Demons, there is currently a small operation being set up; though, I must say, the seeds have been sown for years." Sebastian began immediately, his own cold smile upon his face, as the prospect of playing a new game appeased him, as well. "However, we have reason to believe it won't be quite so small anymore, as though seeds seem to be sprouting.

"There have been two meetings thus far, but what's disturbing about them is that Lucifer himself called them together, instead of a common demon, as is the norm. During the first meeting, he simply said that any demon willing to show loyalty should attack Shinigami on sight, provoked or unprovoked, and whether souls are involved or not. He said that they would be rewarded if they could bring proof back that they had done so, and fervently urged everyone to join in. Everyone was quite enthusiastic about it and, naturally, they listened." He said evenly, his eyes blazing red as Undertaker's smile diminished.

"The second time he called a meeting, which was just today, no more than half an hour ago, he made it mandatory that all demons showed up, no matter the contract they were under, and no matter what they had to do. Before, it had simply been an optional, fairly lighthearted meeting, and while the Young JMasterand I did not wish to participate in such meaningless things as attacking other immortals to 'prove loyalty', we took no worry, as we were sure you'd be able to handle yourselves, and it didn't appear to be anything more than a bored demon throwing his weight around for entertainment. A sight like that is quite common in Hell, I assure you.

"However, today he told us that there would soon be an attack against the Shinigami, and the Realm they existed in, within a month's time, and that if we were to find one while roaming the Mortal Realm, we were to slay them with their own death scythes on sight, or risk punishment back in our home realm. The rewards for doing so were double what they were during the last meeting, and most of the demons there were absolutely overjoyed; not only could they gain power, rank, and wealth by having some fun and obeying orders, but they now knew how to kill their mortal enemies, something no demon had ever known before. Even I was unaware that it was even possible; granted, I _am_ one of the newer demons down there.

"But, there was a catch to the whole thing. Lucifer refused to divulge the details of the attack; what it was for and how and why we would go about doing it. He simply said that he didn't want any leaks of information, because if the Shinigami found out, everything would be ruined. The Young Master and I did our best to speak out against his plan, but to no avail..."

"I'm sure you're quite aware," Ciel cut in, raising a hand to silence Sebastian. "That if the Shinigami are slain in such a slapdash, haphazard manor, it would decrease their already small numbers, and should your kind go extinct, the world would be launched into chaos. Because-"

"The souls of the dead would be left to wander, demons would run amok devouring them, as well as the souls of live humans, and there would be none of the order that the Gods intended to have still in place. The world would, quite literally, end. But, the same would happen if demons were exterminated, and didn't clean up whatever souls-both human, and the animal souls we don't really bother with-the Shinigami missed." Undertaker said knowingly, his frown pensive and contemplating. "Yes, Ciel, I'm well aware."

"However, Lucifer and his great band of oafs seem to have not done their homework." Ciel responded, drawing circles on the arm of his chair. "They're under the impression that if they drastically reduce or even _end_ the Shinigami, their own devouring of the wandering souls will suffice, and the world will see no difference."

"But, that's not the case." Undertaker said grimly. "There are two races for a reason. One cleans what is not collected, and one does the collecting, and they keep each other in check. The reason souls are collected is that when they are, the memories-in the form of Cinematic Records-bind to the souls themselves, and they form books, and those books allow for time to advance. They build upon one another, telling an endless story of all that has, all that does exist, and all that _may_ exist. Without them, Time itself would fall apart, and without reapers to collect them-"

"Time will stand still." They said in unison, and you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Without demons, however, those souls that were missed will build up, the Library will develop far too many gaps in the timeline of the books, and the ghosts of what were will clog up the procession of time." Undertaker continued, gnawing his lip as he thought. "Eating souls, well... That's all well and good if they're just eating ghosts, which can't be reaped, as they have no body for us to cut, and don't serve any real purpose to the world, but it gets a little bit trickier when you lot turn and prey on humans. Considering that without them, you demons wouldn't be able survive, we reapers do allow you to do so to an extent. However, should you overdo your jobs, we start getting short on books, which is downright dangerous for _everyone._ That's why we moniter you all so heavily. It's about maintaining a careful balance of keeping _you _alive and keeping _all of us_ alive."

Ciel nodded, smirking at the look on Grell's face, which pretty much said "Oh my Gods, my life has just been explained, and it's a helluva lot more interesting than I thought".

"However, if they're planning on killing us, we have a major problem." Undertaker continued, drumming his nails against the bedside table, an unusually deep frown on his face. "I suppose that that's where you two come in."

"I assume you want us to continue attending these meetings?" Sebastian said politely, his smirk growing as Grell's face switched to a look of "Oh my _Gods_, in a way I'm keeping the bastard that attacked me alive".

"Naturally." Undertaker said, sitting back in his chair, fingers steepled as he thought. "Now that we know we have a month, there's plenty of time to prepare. Just don't let on that we know..." Undertaker said lowly, and Sebastian caught a brief glimpse of one brilliantly bright eye, which was glinting with a dangerous menace, silently warning him against any sort of trickery. "And don't you _dare _lie to me, or the consequences won't be worth _any _sort of retribution you earn in Hell."

Sebastian matched the look, his eyes flaming red, before Ciel let out a low sigh of annoyance, as though the two were nothing more than bickering children. Sebastian reluctantly broke the look and looked down at his young lord, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Enough of that, you buffoons." Ciel scoffed, leaning his head against his hand. "I swear on my old estate, and those that once inhabited it, that I am telling the truth, Undertaker."

Undertaker relaxed, his Chesire grin slipping back onto his face.

"I can live with that." He said calmly, threading his fingers together. "That's nothing that_ you_ of all people would toss around lightly, Phantomhive."

"Besides, Sebastian is now ordered to not tell a single lie to you, no matter what you ask him." Ciel said, looking up at Sebastian meaningfully. "It shouldn't be a problem, anyway, as he never lies, correct?"

Sebastian laid a hand to his chest and bowed, an cold smile still on his face.

"Yes, my Lord."

This put the Undertaker completely at ease, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Apologies, but we can't help but be careful at a time like this, you know?" He said, grinning at Ciel. "I'm sure you understand."

"Quite." Ciel said, toying absently with a lock of his own midnight-blue hair. "Besides, I've got no reason to lie. The game I'm playing has the objective of not destroying the world and suffering a horrible death, you know? I don't like losing, and this is going to be the biggest game yet."

Undertaker let out a laugh, and Ciel smirked with satisfaction.

How he _loved _a good challenge.

"Perhaps we should go, then." Ciel said, standing and nodding to Sebastian. "Judging by your friend William's reaction, not everyone is quite so enthusiastic to have us here."

"Do keep in touch." Undertaker said with a friendly wave of his hand. "When's the next meeting?"

"Whenever Lucifer calls it into order." Ciel responded as Sebastian opened the door for him. "I'll let you know."

"Wait a minute!" Grell piped up, and Sebastian turned and looked at him, as Ciel was already out and heading down the walkway toward the staircase.

"Yes?"

"The one with the injured shoulder... Do you know him?"

"Yes." Sebastian answered calmly, starting outside after Ciel. "That was Resmodus, Lucifer's chief advisor and, the demon next-in-line for the throne."

The door squealed closed, and Grell bit his lip, genuine worry written all over his face.

Apparently, he'd be taking on the right hand of the Devil.

Lovely.


	16. I'll Be Here

Undertaker, seeming to sense Grell's unease at the prospect of taking on Resmodus, began stroking his hair with long, soothing movements of his hand. Grell, however, was still filled with unease despite the kind gesture. Now that he and Undertaker were alone, they really had something they needed to discuss, as it had been nagging at Grell all day.

"Undertaker?" He asked, looking blindly in his general direction. Undertaker continued to stroke his hair, his voice calm and easy now that the situation, though still dire, seemed to be working itself out, little by little.

"Yes, m'dear?" He purred, sliding his hand across Grell's cheek affectionately and causing Grell to shiver.

"...Who's Claudia?"

Undertaker's hand paused, and an uneasy silence followed. Grell could almost hear his sudden distress, and it only served to propel his suspicions further. He set his teeth, sitting up slightly as he impatiently waited for an answer.

"...I'd rather not discuss that." Undertaker said lowly, his voice now ringing with an almost pleading note as he wished desperately for Grell to drop the subject.

"Why?" Grell pressed, gently pushing Undertaker's hand from his cheek. He dreaded the answer, however, and he could feel a knot of emotion welling up in his throat. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming, as he'd heard it all before.

"I just don't want to." Undertaker said staunchly, and Grell swallowed hard, expecting the worst to come next.

"Listen, if you're just messing around with me while you're seeing someone else, you can just-"

"It's not that!" Undertaker said a tad forcefully, his hand tightening on the bedsheets. "I would never-"

"Really? Then what was with the whole 'I like my bitches to beg' nonsense?" Grell challenged, his teeth digging painfully into his lower lip as he fought to keep his voice even. "It sounds like I'm not the only person who's been hanging around! Who else are you-"

"You're the only one I've stayed with for so long, for a _very _long time, alright?" Undertaker cut in, a bitter, offended note in his voice. "To be totally honest, I'm surprised you haven't left, or asked _me _to leave. It's not like I wanted any of the others I was with to leave, either, but naturally, no one wants to hang around with the mortician, now do they?"

"You still haven't answered my question!" Grell countered, his free fist clenching as tears burned in his throat. "I'm willing to bet I'm just a rebound, so-"

"She's dead."

Grell nearly stopped breathing when Undertaker answered. His voice was blunt and hollow with a sharp, bitter edge, and an undeniable note of pure pain. Instantly, Grell felt a massive wave of guilt and shame wash over him, and his anger faded to a sickening, gut-wrenching silence that seemed to drag on for hours.

Undertaker was biting his lip hard, staring out the window at something only he could see. His shrouded eyes were distant, and a faint flicker of deep mourning crossed them as they searched the heavens for something that was not, could not be there. He let out a heavy, slow sigh, just once, then resumed his silence.

"Undertaker, I-"

"Don't worry about it." Undertaker sighed again, though his voice was still eerily depressed; something that was very, very strange for Undertaker. "It's been quite awhile, really. I've tried staying with others since, moved on and all that, like she would have wanted, but they'd all leave, as I was nothing more than a night of fun to them. I must say I was expecting the same from someone as high-maintenance and classy as you, Grell." Undertaker said, a small smile slipping across his face as Grell blushed beneath his bruises, though his heart still ached with memories. "Especially considering what a battle-scarred old bull I am, and how you have quite the fancy for that demon. I never dreamed I would live up to your standards, but I tried, regardless."

Grell bit his lip again, feeling twice as guilty as before. Undertaker made the last comment lightly, airily, but Grell was quite sure that there was a note of jealousy mixing in with the pain in his voice, and he didn't sound as lighthearted as his words at all.

"So that's why the letter was so formal? So uptight and distant, like you didn't want to see me when you got back?" Grell asked quietly, feeling rather childish now, and still regretful for hurting Undertaker so much, if only by mistake. "I thought you didn't want me around, so I left..."

"That was my mistake." Undertaker said gently, reaching out and taking Grell's hand again. "I really should have just waited until you got up. By the sounds of it, you're in the same boat as I am with people just using you for a one-night stand, and then leaving you behind. Putting my work ahead of you was wrong, and I'm very sorry. In truth, I was only so formal because I didn't wish to scare you off with sappy love confessions. I suppose that worked against me, hm?"

Grell lowered his head shyly, and he heard a faint chuckle from Undertaker. Quite frankly, he was shocked that someone was apologizing for leaving him like that, much less saying that they'd made the mistake of doing it because they wanted him to _stay..._

"Wait..." He said, head tilting back up. "So, what did you do with your... er, 'work' while you're stuck here?"

"I had it forwarded to a colleague. I'm not the only underground mortician in the business, you know. Many more things are hidden from the public than you'd think." He said, his voice calm and happy again. "It's all taken care of, as one undertaker will hardly be missed."

Grell blushed slightly, and Undertaker let out an amused rumble of laughter.

"What is it now?"

"...You planned on staying that long?" Grell asked softly, and he felt Undertaker's hand squeeze his own reassuringly.

"I told you, I'm not letting go, Grell." He said quietly, and Grell felt his heart speed up at the promise. "I'll be here as long as you want me here, and that's that. No questions asked."

Grell felt the Undertaker kiss the back of his hand, and he felt a knot of emotion welling up in his throat again. This time, however, it was a sign of his happiness. Finally, someone was saying that they honestly wanted him around, and he couldn't have been happier than he was at that very moment; just because he'd never really felt _wanted _before.

Clumsily, he leaned out, and Undertaker, sensing what he wanted, wrapped his arms around him in a gentle, loving hug, being painstakingly careful of the injuries he had while conveying all the affection he could.

"I'm sorry." Grell mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of Undertaker's neck and staying there. "I just didn't want you to leave, and I got nervous..."

"I'm actually rather flattered," Undertaker said, gently rubbing Grell's back and, indeed, sounding amused. "I've never really had anyone get jealous over _me,_ you know? I take it as a sign that you're being earnest." He raised an eyebrow and gently nibbled Grell's ear. "Were you using that demon to further accentuate your point, m'dear?" He said around nibbles, which were making Grell squirm and giggle in an wonderfully endearing manner. Grell blushed and growled softly against his neck, lightly nipping him back.

"...Maybe, though a lot of it was habit, too. He overreacts to a little teasing like no one's business."

Undertaker laughed, and Grell relaxed, knowing that he was forgiven.

"Undertaker?"

"Yes, m'dear?"

"Please stay." Grell asked quietly, gripping his robes with as much strength as he could muster up from his tired limbs.

A small smile on his face, Undertaker pressed his lips to Grell's hair.

"Whatever you want." He murmured, and Grell felt his heart jump with happiness.

"Because I'm not leaving as long as you want me here."

xxx

Super short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry. D8 But it's been a busy day and I just couldn't leave all you lovelies hanging again. A little is better than nothing, right! Right? ;w;

Besides, it's as fluffy as a kitten!


	17. Murder in Those Eyes

The next week was a blur of motion, made up of William's brisk interruptions in their quiet conversation, Ronald's springy chit-chats and well-wishes (Undertaker didn't seem to mind quite as much now, though he wasn't exactly overjoyed with the visits) and, most noticeably, of Grell getting better by the day.

By day four he was able to walk easily across the room, though it was still a tad painful, and Undertaker had been very pleased with this. Day five saw the tape on his ribs removed (Grell was both very relieved and very annoyed. That junk hurt when it came off!) and he could breath deeply once again. Day six, and the cast on his arm was gone, and Undertaker's cheer at his progress replaced it..

Finally, a week after the attack, Undertaker decided that it was time for Grell to regain his vision, as he'd healed completely, save for a few minor cuts and bruises here and there. William agreed, and he showed up to help with the procedure, which Grell was not really looking forward to, now that the day had come. He wasn't quite sure what they planned on doing, but he had the feeling he wasn't going to like it, no matter how badly he wanted to see again. Afterall, how could removing stitches in such an area as the eyes be pleasant at all?

"We're going to have to knock you out again, Grell." William had said dryly. Most of the brief kindness Grell had seen a week before was gone now, as he was definitely out of the woods and William saw no need for too much compassion anymore. Therefore, he'd reverted back to having an upper lip so stiff that one could wonder whether or not it was painful for William to smile... which would certainly explain a lot.

"But I just finished healing," He whined, crossing his newly-healed arms and pouting. "Why would you want to lay me out all over again? I call workplace brutality."

Undertaker let out a manic giggle, and William scoffed.

"I wish you wouldn't encourage him."

"I wish you wouldn't act like there's a fencing sword stuck up your ass." Undertaker giggled, and Grell bit back a smile. "That was funny!"

Grell heard the sigh, and he easily pictured William rolling his eyes at this. Undertaker, of course, would be grinning like the world would end if he didn't, and receiving only a dirty look in return. The smile couldn't be held back any longer, and it slid across Grell's face as a snicker left his lips.

"We'll be using an anesthetic, not fists, _genius." _William said bluntly, the last word so very sarcastic that Grell's smile nearly split his face. "It'll be local and sort of weak, so you might hear us talking, but you won't feel much of anything. You should wake up fully in less than an hour."

Grell sighed theatrically, pretending to sound as though he were thinking it over and tapping his chin as he did so.

"Will I get a sucker if I'm good?"

"No." William scoffed again as cuffed Grell's ear, though Grell noticed that it wasn't as roughly done as usual. Regardless, Grell fell back on the bed with a startled mock-gasp, and Undertaker snickered softly, knowing full-well that Grell was fine, and there was no need to put William through a wall.

"That didn't hurt you, drama queen. Your concussion healed days ago." William growled, and Undertaker could be heard fiddling with what sounded like metallic tools. "Now, take a deep breath, and we'll see you in an hour."

Grell felt a rough, scratchy cloth press against his face, and a pungent, rather foul smell caused his nose to wrinkle in distaste. He drew in a mildly startled gasp at the scent of it, as he'd gotten little warning about _that._ However, the cloth was also covering his mouth, and Grell simply ended up inhaling the fumes-and the stench-whether he liked it or not.

And, as he immediately began feeling the affects of it, he decided that he most certainly did _not._

His head began swimming instantly, and he felt horribly dizzy and a little sick. He instinctively took another breath, trying to clear his head, but it only made it worse, and his head hit the pillow as his brain gave up and the world became hazy and confusing and dark. Rather than being frightened, however, Grell felt a sleepy contentment wash over him, and he relaxed, no longer having a care in the world as he lay, drifting lazily between consciousness and sleep.

What happened next was hard to focus on and even harder to remember. It all felt like a vague dream that he wasn't really bothering to pay attention to.

Grell felt something that he had grown accustomed to removed from his head, and his face suddenly felt bare and naked and, somehow, lighter. He mumbled weakly, not even knowing what he was saying, and some voice far, far away answered him with a merry laugh.

The world was a little brighter now that the weight was gone, but still quite dark. Grell felt a strange, gentle tugging at both of his eyes, and he tried to move, tried to turn his head away and make it stop. It wasn't painful or really even that unpleasant, but it was weird, and he didn't like it. However, his muscles had betrayed him, and he couldn't move an inch, no matter how hard he willed himself.

Finally, after a few moments, the tugging stopped, and the world was even brighter, brighter than it had been in a long while. Grell couldn't quite comprehend why, but for some reason, he knew in the back of his mind that he'd been waiting on that for awhile, and he was happy without really knowing why.

He laid still, enjoying the rare peace that had settled over him for the little time it would last. He had quickly grown used to the fuzzy, strange world that he'd come across, and he was actually finding it rather enjoyable. It was quite soothing and very quiet, a wonderful change after what he'd been through...

...And that's when the cold water was poured unceremoniously upon his head.

000

William sat back, having just aided Undertaker in removing Grell's stitches, and admired his work. That work being Grell, who was half-stupid with tranquilizer and drooling slightly, but now with the ability to open his eyes. However, considering just how stupid Grell was on a daily basis, this was actually considered an epic accomplishment in William's eyes, and he felt almost no shame as he listened to one of his many creations slurred, nonsensical mumbles.

Almost.

"I think you may have hit him a little hard, Will."

Undertaker's amused chuckle drug Will back from his raised-eyebrow speculation of Grell, and he looked up at the elder Shinigami, who was leaning against the wall with a massive grin on his face. Obviously, he found the situation hilarious, but that was to be expected from someone like Undertaker.

"But, I must say, he's healed up well. Still, did you add water to the cloth to dilute it a bit?" Undertaker asked lightly, tilting his head to this side. "It won't hurt him, but he'll be a little longer getting his senses back."

"Oops." William said dryly, sounding exactly as though he'd forgotten it on purpose. In fact, he _had, _as the longer Grell was knocked out, the more time he had to savor the last shred of peace he'd be getting in a _long _time. "My bad."

Undertaker snickered, and William caught the pillow was thrown at him and tossed it aside, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"You did that on purpose." Undertaker accused playfully, wagging a finger at him. William didn't look impressed.

"Prove it."

"Didn't you ever learn to play nice?"

"I'm not fond of games."

"I created you, William. I know how ticklish you are."

William's face drained of color at the mild threat, and Undertaker's wolfish grin widened. William scowled darkly, and Undertaker merely grinned back at him.

"Well? You should do something." Undertaker chuckled, clearly enjoying the teasing much more than William was.

"I suppose I can add the water now." William amended, grabbing a nearby pitcher of water and pouring it out onto Grell's face.

Grell sat bolt upright, and a single word emitted from his mouth in the form of a slurred, drug-addled screech.

"COLD!" He screamed with what Undertaker would have called an 'artistic flail', and William would have simply dubbed 'sudden, cold-induced epilepsy'. Regardless of the term, he landed with a less-than-graceful thud on the floor, and Undertaker instantly doubled over with uncontrollable laughter. To his complete and utter horror, William found he was smiling. Worst of all, he himself was even tempted to laugh.

As Undertaker's raucous laughter filled the room, Grell struggled to find his feet and figure out which way was up. Still dizzy with drugs but shocked half-awake by the cold water, he was, to say the very least, confused out of his fucking mind.

"Dalmnit..." He slurred, sprawling out on the floor and staying there, as his limbs were refusing to be the slightest bit obedient.

Wait, that didn't sound right...

He tried again, but this time he could make no noise but a small grunt of annoyance. He bit his tongue by mistake, and it helped wake him up a bit more. However, it was a less-than-pleasant way to wake up, and he grimaced slightly as the little pain he could feel reached his altered mind, and an iron-like taste filled his mouth. He couldn't tell his feet from his fingers at that moment, and it was _very _disorienting, to say the least. He decided to simply lay his head against the hard wooden floor and take several deep breaths, as fresh air seemed to help his whirling mind settle slightly.

Undertaker, meanwhile, was now only letting out a few hoarse sobs of laughter, too out-of-breath to do anything else. He leaned heavily against the wall for support, tears of mirth sliding down his cheeks as he gasped for air. William made no move to help either of them, as he was pretending to polish his glasses and trying his damnedest to bite back the chuckles that were threatening to escape him.

Grell tried to stand again after a long minute of deep breathing, and this time, he somehow managed to get his feet under him. He stood, stumbling badly, and sat back heavily on the now-soaking bed, still taking deep breaths. He scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, which were now rather dazzled by the late-afternoon sunlight shining in through the window.

Finally, Undertaker regained some control over himself. He had been reduced to sitting against the wall, his head buried against his over-wide sleeves as he took a page out of Grell's book and breathed deeply, a few broken chuckles interrupting at random intervals. William had replaced his glasses, and the same stoic look was back on his face, as though it had never left.

He was truly a master of emotion.

"O-oh Gods above..." Undertaker gasped, raising his head and wiping the tears from his face. "Gufufufu~ I haven't had s-such a laugh in y-years, m'dear. I t-thank you for that..."

"Shaddup..." Grell grumble-slurred back, blinking owlishly, and wondering why the world was so damn fuzzy. He swayed a bit, then steadied himself forcibly and shook his head, groaning lightly. The world being so hazy certainly wasn't helping his disorientation.

"Here, hold still." William said quietly but firmly. Grell obeyed, to the best of his ability, and he felt cool metal slide across his face as William replaced his glasses, and the skull-adorned chains bumped gently against Grell's upper-neck.

Grell blinked again as the world became instantly clear, suddenly much more balanced as the haze vanished and he could finally tell where the floor ended and the ceiling began.

William was directly in front of him, the usual all-business frown upon his face. Behind him, Undertaker was just beginning to stand, stifling giggles with his sleeves as he struggled to regain himself completely. Grell ran his eyes over the infirmary, savoring the moment, and he closed his eyes as he let out a low sigh of relief: his vision was just the same as it had been before, no better and, thankfully, no worse.

With his vision restored, a few of the effects of the medicine wore off as well. His eyes were a bit dry and felt a little scratchy, but he knew it would fade with a few hours' time. Some areas of his body were still a little tender, but he was certainly feeling much better, if still a bit groggy. Still, he was rapidly recovering from his drug-induced sleep, and he guessed he'd be back to normal by the end of the day.

"How's your vision?" William asked, and Grell's green-on-green eyes flicked back to his face, brought back from their daydreaming.

"It's find..." He slurred, then clenched his teeth and shook his head in irritation as he realized he had the wrong word. "No, I mean fin. Fline... f-f... Aw, _fuck it."_

William held back a smile, and another manic giggle burst forth from Undertaker.

"He's fine." William said lightly, standing again as Grell's annoyed look deepened. Though he had regained his sight, his powers of English seemed to have vanished like smoke, and it seemed like William had stolen them.

Guess the medication hadn't worn off as much as he'd thought.

"Of course he is." Undertaker said with another chuckle and a grin, nudging William affectionately with his elbow. "We fixed him, though I still think the water was a little unnecessary..."

"Which is why you laughed until you cried. Makes perfect sense." William countered dryly, and Undertaker barked another laugh.

"Fair enough, Will." He said lightly. William rolled his eyes and looked back at Grell, who was stumbling to his feet again.

"That's not such a good idea, Sutcliff..." He warned, reaching out a hand to restrain him. Grell, however, ignored him, just managing to evade his grip, and stumbled toward the mirror at the back of the room.

Undertaker paused, watching him closely. Grell's fingers fumbled with his vest for several long seconds before the buttons gave way, and he tugged it aside with a few slender fingers. He reached up again with two fingers of the same hand and pulled the top of his shirt halfway down his chest, revealing the new, neat row of stitches there.

As Undertaker had said a week before, it was not a particularly noticeable scar. It was a mere three inches long and didn't have the aged color of Undertaker's many mars, though it was already looking a little darker than the rest of his pale chest, as the scar tissue was beginning to form. It was very disturbingly close to his heart, and Grell felt a sharp feeling of unease rise in him as he realized just how incredibly close he'd been to death.

It wasn't a nice thought.

His movements becoming more coordinated by the minute, Grell reached up and gently stroked a finger across the stitches, a small grimace of pain crossing his face as the tender skin ached slightly at the touch, despite how careful he was being and the soft skin of his fingers.

William's frown was deeper than usual at this point, and Undertaker's smile had faded to a contemplative line. Grell's face had melted back to a mask with no emotion, and the ancient Shinigami was trying very hard to figure out what he was thinking.

Grell closed his eyes and took a final, deep breath, finally clearing his head entirely of the drugs. His teeth were showing slightly between his parted lips, the tips of those menacing razors glinting gently in the light. His eyes slowly slitted open, like those of a cat who was just waking from a disturbed slumber. Slowly, Grell's eyes raised from the new imperfection, and spring-green met spring-green as he locked eyes with himself in the mirror.

William took a large step back out of pure surprise as Grell's fist slammed into the mirror, sending shards scattering and dancing across the floor. Wordlessly, without verifying whether or not he was okay, Grell turned and stalked across the room, grabbing the scarlet jacket he'd stolen from his mistress over two years ago from where it was draped over a chair next to the bed. He slipped it on about his elbows as he opened the door, and the screech-creak-_bang!_ of the door slamming shut echoed across the room.

Undertaker looked over at William, whose startled gaze met his own shrouded, contemplative look. A silent message swept between them, and they both understood what had just happened without saying a word.

Because there had been nothing but murder in those eyes.

xxx

Grell reminds me of the last time I went to the dentist. XD

Just remember kids, nobody fucks with Grell. Nobody.


	18. Deadly Warning

A cheery laugh floated out of a room above as Grell stalked down the stairs like a puma, his fists clenched in fury, and his eyes still with a deadly glint. As he reached the first floor, dark thoughts whipping through his mind at a hundred miles an hour, a mop of blond-and-black hair exited a door above, and Ronald's voice caused Grell to turn and look up at him in mild surprise.

"...Thanks again! Seeya!" Ronald called, giving some lucky person a flirtatious wink and a small wave as his black-gloved hand. He rustled with some papers, then slid a folder into his jacket. He blinked slowly to himself, as though he'd just noticed something, and then glanced down when he felt Grell's gaze.

"Grell!" He called down happily as he headed for the stairs, his pace brisk and excited. Grell smiled and waved a few fingers daintily at him, and Ronald was at the bottom within a few seconds, grinning as he studied Grell's much-improved condition.

"Hi, Ronnie." Grell said sweetly, placing one hand on his hips as Ronald walked up and gave him a friendly hug. "It's been awhile, hm?" He asked, ruffling Ronald's hair and mussing it up further, the dark thoughts momentarily chased from his mind.

"Too long!" Ronald laughed lightly, pulling away from Grell and fixing his hair easily with a quick flick of his head. "How are you feeling, Grell?"

"I feel great, actually." Grell purred back, his eyes slitted in pleasure. It was the truth; he hadn't had a reason for revenge or any other sort of bloody business for a long time, and the prospect of finally seeing (or, preferably, causing) some bloodshed had him pumped up and feeling like he could take on the world.

"I'm glad. " Ronald said, beaming at his role-model like his recovery had given Ronald's life a new meaning. "I was really worried about you there for awhile. I was the one who fixed up your glasses, actually..."

"Enough of that!" Grell said airily, pushing Ronald's shoulder lightly and cocking his hips. "I'm fine and that's all there is to it, so stop getting yourself all worried." He said with a fond smile. "But, as for you... Are the plans still on?" He said with a wolfish grin. "I've been looking forward to it~!"

Ronald shifted, his boisterous grin fading slightly as he realized what Grell was talking about. Grell rolled his eyes and scoffed, a playful, teasing grin on his face.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, Ronnie."

"He's so intimidating!" Ronald said back sheepishly, crossing his arms in a way that was strikingly similar to Grell. "I bet you'd be nervous, too."

"Oh please, it's just about how you time it." Grell said with a wave of his hand. "I bet he's a kitten under all of that."

"What kind? A rabid lion cub?" Ronald answered, the corners of his mouth tugging back into a smile.

Grell laughed, and Ronald relaxed, laughing with him after a few seconds. Obviously, the kid was having second thoughts, but Grell wasn't about to let him give up now. Not after he'd been waiting so long!

"Listen, I'll give you a week." Grell growled playfully, both of his hands on his hips this time as he cocked them sassily. Ronald grinned up at him, happy to see his old friend had not been altered by his experience. "Or I'll go talk to him myself. Fair?"

"Sure." Ronald answered, and Grell grinned widely, causing Ronald to laugh as the same old mischievous glint sparked in his eyes.

"Just make sure I'm around to see it, honey."

"Of course!" Ronald answered enthusiastically, though a note of nervousness was back in his voice.

"See what?"

Grell jumped a mile as Undertaker's voice sounded very close to his ear, and strong, slender arms wrapped around him from behind. Grell bared his teeth slightly and glared, and Undertaker responded with a mischievous grin.

"Well?" Undertaker teased, toying absently with the chain of Grell's glasses with one long nail. "What am I missing, you two?"

"Nothing." Grell said with a stubborn pout of his lips and a look that frankly said "I'm-not-telling-you". "If we wanted you to know, we would have told you."

"It's a surprise." Ronald said with a polite smile, and Undertaker snickered back at him.

"Would it have anything to do with William's birthday a few days from now?"

"...Maybe." Ronald said evasively, but Undertaker took it as confirmation.

"He'll kill you if you throw him a party." Undertaker chuckled, and Ronald looked away, obviously a bit embarrassed.

"It's not that..." He mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. Undertaker's lips pulled up in a smile, and Grell rolled his eyes. How typical...

"Never mind. You'll see soon." Grell said, reaching up and toying with Undertaker's hair with one finger, winking at him and receiving a rather sultry smile in response. "Though I'm not sure how, with that haircut." He added with an innocent batting of his lashes.

Undertaker's bright laughter filled the room, and Grell bit back a smile, ducking out of his arms and walking a few feet away with a sassy roll to his gait, smirking as he felt Undertaker's eyes on his back.

"That mirror's coming out of your paycheck, Sutcliff." A dry voice said behind him, and Grell whirled to see William, who was just walking past them, headed toward the main office.

Apparently, Undertaker hadn't been the only one staring. Grell felt his cheeks turn red.

"But Williaaaam!" Grell whined, and William nailed him with a harsh look.

"Don't 'Williaaaaam' me, Sutcliff." He growled. "That was completely uncalled for."

"But I didn't even get paid this week..." Grell grumbled, crossing his arms and scowling at the floor. William rolled his eyes and continued toward the office; Grell was definitely back to normal.

"I suppose you'll be paying for it out-of-pocket, then." William answered calmly, and Grell huffed indignantly in response.

Ronald watched William go silently, a bit of a distant look in his eyes. He shook his head slightly, then turned to Grell, a wide, energetic smile on his face despite Grell's pouting.

"I'll see you later, Grell." He chirped. "I have to go out reaping now if I want to make it back in time to plan. I told William to give your shifts to me so you wouldn't be overloaded when you could come back to work."

"Tootles, Ronnie." Grell said, replacing his smile and waving daintily at him. "Thanks so much. Have fun!"

Ronald nodded, a gentle chuckle leaving him, then headed to the nearest wall and opened a portal, headed for the Mortal Realm. A second later and he was gone, Grell staring off after him.

Just then, the wall opposite lit up. Grell was expecting Ronald to come in, saying he had forgotten something. But, none other than Ciel Phantomhive stepped through, Sebastian directly behind him.

"I'm afraid things aren't looking quite as promising as I thought." Ciel was saying to Sebastian, his brow knitted with thought. Sebastian's mouth was a thin, contemplative line, and he looked ill at ease, obviously not bearing good news.

"Agreed, my Lord."

Ciel looked up, studying the library about them. A few Shinigami had stopped and stared, but they resumed their duties once they recognized who it was.

"Grell!" Ciel barked suddenly. Grell clenched his teeth a bit, not liking how the brat had the gall to call him out in such a commanding tone, as though Grell were another one of his lackeys.

"What now?" He growled back, not bothering to hide his spite. Undertaker walked forward ahead of Grell, an urgent note in his gait. After a second of hesitation, Grell followed, his back tense with irritation. Ciel was simply not what he wanted to be seeing right after leaving the infirmary.

"We need to speak with William." Ciel said grimly as they reached him. The tiny demon's cerulean eye was glinting with a dark urgency, and Grell bit his lip, taken aback by how extremely serious he was. For once, his anger subsided slightly, and morbid curiosity took over.

"It's about the meetings," Ciel continued, and Sebastian's eyes flicked about the Library, as though he was expecting someone to launch another attack, despite everyone being absorbed in their work. "We have just returned from one, and it seems plans have changed. And definitely not for the better."

Grell saw movement from the corner of his eye, and he looked over quickly to follow it. Undertaker was off like a bullet, darting toward the offices where William had just gone, obviously not keen on wasting time. Grell set his teeth and looked back at the two demons, not bothering nor really even wanting to flirt with Sebas-chan after his recent conversation with Undertaker. Grell didn't quite consider he and Undertaker a pair, but he still felt a bit guilty when he thought of all the shameless flirting that had taken place in front of him, and he didn't want to make it worse. Afterall, he was seriously in debt to that Shinigami.

"It's a good thing you're back on your feet, Grell." Sebastian said, his cool smirk slipping across his face as he met Grell's gaze. "Otherwise your own personal situation may have gone from bad to worse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grell asked suspiciously, now eying Ciel as though the midget was about to jump on him and gnaw his legs off. "Are they still coming for me or something?"

"I wish the problem were as simple as throwing you to the dogs like a steak." Ciel said dryly, receiving a very nasty glare from Grell in return. "But it seems that the entire game plan has changed, not just the target."

Grell was about to make a snarky retort when he heard rapid footsteps, and he turned to see William and Undertaker rushing back toward them, moving as though they were racing again.

"What is it?" William said shortly as soon as he had stopped, his brow knitted with both great concern and great distaste at having to deal with the demons again. "Something serious?"

"Extremely." Sebastian said, his voice deceptively calm and soft. "Perhaps it's better if we go somewhere a little more... private? Causing a riot wouldn't help current matters."

William nodded curtly, though he wasn't pleased with having to take a demon's advice. He jumped to the top of the nearest bookcase, then to the balcony above (opposite to the one where the Infirmary was located), not saying a word. Grell followed, his curiosity burning and driving him to move faster than he usually would have considered necessary. Undertaker was behind him a second later, absently adjusting his hat as he landed on the railing and stepped down. Sebastian swooped up Ciel and followed his Shinigami hosts, his mouth a grim line once more.

William held open the door to a separate, little-used room, ushering them all in with a curt wave of his hand. No sooner had Sebastian swept over the threshold than the door closed promptly, and the sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through the room, sending everyone into a brief silence.

Sebastian set Ciel carefully down in a chair, and then stood straight again at his right side. Ciel crossed his legs and threaded his fingers together, his eye blazing red as he regarded the others, who seated themselves around him. He looked very much like he was still running a business, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Well?" William asked curtly as he seated himself across from Ciel, the hard wooden chair not doing much to ease his nerves. He was sharing Grell's dislike of the child, but it extended out to Sebastian as well, and Undertaker seemed to be the only one who was relaxed with the two there. The other two were obviously edgy, and it only served to aggravate the tension in the air.

"They've decided to come early." Ciel said grimly, ignoring the way William immediately began to scowl with concern. "Lucifer said that he felt the time was right and that they were well-enough prepared, and that they should begin as soon as possible, to minimize the risk of you lot finding out. They plan on coming in three days time, as he saw no real reason to wait any longer. 'The sooner the better' were his exact words, actually, so we may not even have that long."

Shocked silence crashed throughout the room, and William's expression changed from one of knitted concern to complete and utter horror. Undertaker bit his lip hard, and Grell's open-mouthed shock was enough to relay all the distress they felt without saying a single word.

Oh, this wasn't good. _No..._

"This is absolutely horrid..." William said gruffly, removing his glasses and putting the back of his hand to his forehead in the same motion. "We have no time..."

"Which is why we shouldn't be sitting here and wasting it." Undertaker said cryptically, all of his previous cheer completely gone and replaced with a grim, down-to-business demeanor. "You need to make the announcement we discussed, William. Hold it off any longer and no one will even have the chance to be prepared, and we'll basically be lining them up for slaughter."

"You know they'll panic." William rasped, and Grell was shocked to see his hand trembling gently; something he'd never seen out of the strict, stoic man ever before. "We'll never be able to keep them under control if they do that. This would all be very, _very _sudden, and they may not even trust me anymore. If that happens, especially at a time like this..."

"I'm here to help." Undertaker said softly, laying a loyal hand on William's shoulder. "But you're still in charge, William, and this is something you need to do. It's better to frighten them than to get them all killed, I'm sure you'll agree."

William sat in silence for several long seconds, then a small, decisive sigh escaped his lips. Grell pressed his mouth into a thin line, and he stood as William did, intending to help in whatever way he could.

"We need to start. Now." William said firmly, striding back toward the door. "Did Lucifer say anything else?"

"He said his intentions would be revealed the day of the attack, because he's still wary of treason. However, attacks on Shinigami are being encouraged even more, so it's incredibly dangerous for any one of you to be in the Mortal Realm now." Ciel answered softly, for once almost seeming to sympathize with their distress (or the way Grell instantly seemed to freeze up, as his thoughts immediately flew to Ronald, who was currently out handling both of their assignments). Or, perhaps, he was worried he was going to lose his game, and that's why his eye dimmed with what seemed like pity.

_Probably the latter..._ William thought bitterly, and subconsciously narrowed his eyes.

"Naturally, then, we'll have to be there when he reveals it, so we may not be able to join your side until they arrive." Sebastian said evenly, matching William's glare. "We'll probably show up with the army when they invade and simply have to switch sides from there. It's quite risky for us, so I'd suggest showing a little gratitude."

William scoffed softly, and yanked open the door.

"Remember, _demon,"_ He spat as he turned to leave. "No treason. Not against us, anyway. I don't like the thought of double-agents to begin with, and I've heard-and _seen_-too many horror stories to even begin to trust you. I'm watching you. _Both_ of you." He said, looking back at them with a sneer. "I'll show gratitude when I see you fighting for us with my own eyes. Until then, you can just keep wishing."

"I am under oath." Sebastian answered calmly, though his voice had a bit of a growl to it. "I wouldn't be telling you something like that if I were lying, now would I? Besides, we are not fighting for _you,_ we are fighting for _us._ Both the survival of ourselves and our seperate species depend on this, _Shinigami."_

William muttered darkly to himself as he stalked out, obviously not willing to take a word the demon was saying at face value. Demons could break contracts if they honestly wished too, but it was very rare, as it often meant they wouldn't get the souls they were after, not to mention it gave them a bit of a bad rap in the Demon Realm for being "quitters". But, William reasoned, Sebastian wasn't getting a soul out of this deal, so who's to say he was sticking to his contract? William didn't see a reason to believe him yet, much less trust him. The fact that the other two weren't being just as skeptical disturbed him, greatly, and he hissed curses that he normally never would have even _thought_ of saying as he stalked down the hall to his office.

Those demons would rue the day yet.

000

"Forgive him," Undertaker said grimly as William left, though he himself wasn't even offering a smile, as the situation was becoming much too gruesome, even for him. "He's under a lot of pressure these days. We really do appreciate the help, even if he isn't the best at showing it."

"This is just for the sake of my game." Ciel said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Think nothing of it, as it's not intended to be specifically for _your _sake, anyway. You owe me nothing but the entertainment I seek."

Undertaker studied him in silence then, and Ciel simply stared coolly back at him, not really caring what his old informant thought. Finally, Undertaker gave them a curt nod and followed after William, not bothering to counter Ciel's statement. It was really none of his business, anyway.

Grell, however, shot Ciel a venomous glare, then turned on his heel and stormed out, his crimson tresses billowing out behind him. He was just as pissed as William, and like his superior, his anger stemmed both from the sudden terror of what they had just been told and distrust of the demons (even though his own wasn't quite as strong), especially that con-artist of a child. Things just kept getting worse and worse...

Ciel looked up at Sebastian, who nodded wordlessly back at him. Ciel stood and followed the butler as Sebastian went to open the door for him, his gait easy and unconcerned, though his mind was whirling as it searched for ideas and tricks that would aid him in getting his way. It was just like chess, really...

Sebastian closed the door behind them softly, smirking a small smirk.

He had the feeling things were about to get very interesting.

xxx

Indeed they are, Sebastian, indeed they are. 8D


	19. Victory is Sweet

Ciel and Sebastian joined the Shinigami out on the balcony of the seldom-used room, which, like its twin, overlooked everyone and everything inside. William, having returned from his brief visit to his office, was at the head of the procession, with Undertaker and Grell flanking either side of him. The two demons stood off to the side politely, distancing themselves and feigning disinterest. Ciel's eye scanned casually over the floors below, and Sebastian watched a dust moat float lazily by, going a bit cross-eyed as it drifted past his nose. However, both were listening intently, and both of them glanced briefly at William when his voice rang out.

"Attention! Everyone!" He barked shortly, his voice carrying easily across the Library from his vantage point. The light buzzing of voices below ceased immediately, as no one had forgotten William's outburst from the week before, and they certainly didn't want a repeat. They all stopped and looked up at him, a few quiet, curious murmurs going around before the Library settled into silence.

William took and deep breath, and Grell frowned when he noticed William's hands tightening sharply on the railing of the balcony. William's face, however, remained calm, and his voice didn't waver when he spoke again.

"I'm sure you all know of last week's events and of the attack on Mr. Sutcliff." He said, glancing over at Grell as he did so. "I'm pleased to say that Mr. Sutcliff has made a full recovery, and will be returning to work promptly."

Grell flashed his signature shark-toothed smile and a rock-sign at everyone below as verification of his well-being, and there was a small smattering of polite applause from below. Grell winked at them, but immediately retreated with a semi-sheepish grin when William gave him a "don't-fuck-this-up-for-me" look from the corner of his eye.

"However, I'm sad to say that the issue behind his attack is far from resolved. Mr. Sutcliff, as most of you know, was attacked by a rogue demon. However, it has come to our attention that the rogue isn't such a rogue at all. That is, to say, he's part of a very large, very dangerous group that poses a threat to each and every one of us, and the very Library itself."

Shocked murmurs rang throughout the hall, and there was the sound of a hundred and fifty Shinigami shuffling forward to get closer to the balcony, all of them trying to get a better vantage point in order to follow the story.

William paused for a moment, letting them rearrange themselves, and then held up a hand. The Library went silent immediately, with everyone peering up at him expectantly, their faces drawn in curious fear and their breath bated.

"The Demon Realm is planning to make an attack on the Shinigami Realm in no less than three days." William said grimly, narrowing his eyes as more murmurs ripped through the crowd. He raised his voice to be heard above them, sounding less-than-ecstatic himself. "We have been informed by a... reliable source," He gritted out, and Sebastian smiled coolly at him, receiving a nasty glare in response. "Of this fact, and we have every right to be very concerned about the attack.

"We do not now why or how it will take place, but we have reason to believe that it deals with them wanting to destroy us in order to obtain the souls of the living without any competition..." He trailed off, gritting his teeth as the murmurs became low cries and then shouts of panic, and he couldn't even hear himself, much less hope that the others could hear him. This was what he'd been worried about, and he could tell that it was T-5 until another all-out riot broke out.

He was just opening his mouth to demand silence and prevent utter chaos when a loud _SLAM!_ rang out from behind him, loud enough to make his teeth chatter from the force. Momentarily stunned, his knees buckled slightly, and a shudder ran through his body as every muscle locked up for a split second.

After a moment, he shakily looked over his shoulder at Undertaker. Undertaker had materialized his scythe and, apparently, just slammed it against the metal doorframe on the wall behind them hard enough to rattle bones and end any threat of a riot. Complete silence reigned instead, and when Undertaker spoke, his voice was soft and calm, but carried clearly across the Library, with everyone hanging onto his every word.

"I know this must be terribly unsettling," He said gently, opening his hand and smiling as the scythe vanished into thin air. "But it's of the greatest importance that you listen to William right now, as what he has to say just might save your lives. Besides, panicking gets us nowhere, does it?"

He bent then, and picked up Grell under his arms, helping the paralyzed Shinigami to his feet. Unfortunately for Grell, he had been standing directly next to the Undertaker when the scythe slammed against the wall, and steel had rang against steel with the force of what sounded like a train crash. Needless to say, he was unprepared for the incredible noise it made, and a bit of blood was leaking from his nose as Undertaker began to drag him back into the room behind them to recover. Poor Grell had not recovered from his paralysis as quickly as William, however, and his feet dragged the floor as Undertaker hauled him away.

Undertaker nodded politely at Ciel and Sebastian as he passed them, as though he wasn't dragging Grell like a cadaver. Sebastian had clapped his hands over Ciel's ears a second before Undertaker had stalled the crowd, and Ciel was perfectly fine, his eye calm and half-lidded with ease. Sebastian, however, looked a little frazzled, but he'd been far enough away to avoid most of the noise. He smiled back at Undertaker, but his expression clearly said "I hope to the Gods you fall down the stairs for that".

"Many things were hidden from you all, for your overall safety, but I'm afraid that now is the time to make the information known. In some ways, I really wish I would have done it sooner, or at least under different circumstances..." Undertaker heard William continue. He decided that he was no longer needed as William began to once again recite the history of the Swarm to the masses below. It wouldn't be anything he hadn't heard before, and it wasn't anything William couldn't handle. Besides, Grell was a bit more important right now.

Undertaker carried him back into the little-used room, smiling as he noticed Grell glaring murderously up at him, obviously recovering rapidly from his brief shock.

"I apologize, m'dear." Undertaker said smoothly as he pulled the door closed and locked it with a quick movement. "But, as I said before, we can't afford to waste time, now can we?"

"I could have gone deaf!" Grell growled unhappily, jerking himself away from Undertaker and staggering a few feet away. "You could have at least warned me!"

"You're a Shinigami, Grell." Undertaker said with an amused chuckle as Grell huffed and plopped down in a chair, crossing both his arms and his legs. "You can't go deaf. Not for long, anyway, unless you're dumb enough to shove a scythe in your ear."

"Shut up." Grell pouted, glaring even harder at him. "That doesn't mean you should do things like that, anyway."

"Fair enough." Undertaker purred back, walking over and pulling up a chair next to Grell's. "Come here, then. Let me check you over."

Grell continued to glare at him wordlessly, but one slender hand reached up and brushed his fair face clear of blood, causing Undertaker's smile to widen slightly. Grell was fine, he could tell that with one glance, but some teasing was long overdue...

"I'm made of tougher stuff than that." Grell said evenly, flicking his head and letting his long, flowing hair sweep over the back of the chair. "I'm perfectly fine now."

He shot Undertaker a challenging look, daring him to question this. Undertaker leaned in toward him a bit, causing Grell to blink in surprise at his approach.

"Prove it."

Grell opened his mouth to retort, but stopped, not knowing what to say. He was fine, save for his ears ringing a little, but that was hardly anything to worry about. Undertaker's smile transformed into a full-blown, triumphant grin as he realized Grell had no answer, and he leaned back, seeming satisfied with himself.

"See? You can't. Now come here."

Grell stood up and stalked several feet away out of pure frustration, his hands clenched into fists. Sometimes, he honestly hated when the Undertaker made a point like that. It could be sexy, but it could also be _so _downright annoying, and it just made Grell want to teach him that he wasn't nearly as submissive as he thought.

He blinked, then, just realizing how he could get back at him. Before he could stop himself, a wicked, sinister grin split his face, and he began to approach Undertaker.

Undertaker's grin faltered a bit in return, and then finally disappeared as Grell closed the distance between them rapidly. He wasn't quite sure if the glint in Grell's eye was scary or just sexy, so, he settled with both, as usual.

"What are you-"

Undertaker was, for once, caught completely off guard when Grell launched toward him. Instinctively, he grabbed roughly at Grell, trying to hold him back. Grell, however, twisted like a cat from his grip with a quick slide of his hips, and Undertaker felt something tug roughly at his cloak, before ripping it off completely. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt a weight in his lap, and he looked down, finally able to comprehend what was happening.

Grell was kneeling before him, gloved hands on his captive's knees, forcing his legs apart. He looked up at Undertaker through his modified eyelashes, grinning a wolfish challenge at him. He closed his eyes and began to nuzzle along Undertaker's inner thigh, his mouth creeping slowly closer to Undertaker's most sensitive area.

Damn, he was fast...

Undertaker winced as a certain area began heating up a little too fast and a little too suddenly, causing a small spark of pain to race up his spine. However, it was quickly replaced by a dark smile and a burning desire as Grell's lips brushed his heightening arousal. A sudden, quick movement later, and Undertaker was now the captor instead of the captive.

Grell wasn't surprised at all to feel the hand knot in his hair. In fact, he'd been hoping for it. As he found his hair pulled and his eyes forced to look up at Undertaker, who was leaning in so much that their lips brushed as he spoke, he felt his own length begin to firm, and he shivered gently.

"Now, Grell, what have I told you before? I call the shots." He said softly, nuzzling Grell's nose as he did so. "You're really just asking for trouble..."

Grell, anticipating this, bared his teeth in a seductive smile, and he made sure to make them click gently with every word he spoke. His eyes were lidded slightly as he responded, and he lowered his head as much as he could with Undertaker's hand entangled in his hair, breathing softly against his neck.

"Now, Undertaker, do you really want to take a chance with what I'm about to do?" He purred, though he was careful to put a small bit of menace into his voice. "Heaven forbid you piss me off, dear, or you may... _come up a bit short."_

He hissed the threat gently, his hands slipping down and rubbing firmly against Undertaker's now obvious arousal. Undertaker shuddered softly at this, then a confident smirk crossed his face. He drew his tongue across Grell's lips, but pulled away just enough to deny him a kiss when the redhead leaned forward, causing Grell to scowl.

"Playing dirty, now, are we?" Undertaker murmured, and Grell felt that hand release his hair, allowing him to slip back down to his previous position at Undertaker's waist. "I like that.

"But, I suppose you're turning this into a competition?" Undertaker said lightly as Grell pushed his lighter undercoat up, continuing to eye Undertaker challengingly. "It makes no difference to me, as I don't plan on losing, you know, and you'll be getting quite the payback for trying to dominate me."

"We'll see." Grell said, winking up at Undertaker. "Behave yourself, Mr. Badass, and you may just get an extra treat a little later." He said, slipping his gloves off and beginning to fiddle lightly with Undertaker's belt. Undertaker's smile remained in place as he watched Grell, his entire body beginning to get pretty damn heated.

Grell partially opened the belt, and he removed his hands. Instead, his teeth gripped the buckle, and clinked gently against the metal as he slowly pulled it away from the small run of leather than was keeping it in place. Undertaker shivered as his belt slowly came fully undone, and Grell's hands began fiddling with his pants as the buckle dropped from his teeth.

Grell's slim fingers slowly slid the layers of clothing away, and he began smiling in earnest as Undertaker's smile faded to that of a needy grimace. He pursed his lips as his member was finally exposed to the cool air, but refused to make a noise. Grell, however, was determined to get something out of him... Or, quite a few things, to be exact.

He reached forward and wrapped a hand around Undertaker's need, doing his best to ignore his own, and slowly began to stroke, receiving a small jerk of Undertaker's hips in return. Undertaker, however, made no other move, refusing to lose so easily to such a small touch. Grell, anticipating his stubbornness, was not surprised. However, he wasn't deterred in the slightest, and he slowly drew his tongue up the side of Undertaker's length, causing Undertaker to bite his lip gently.

Slowly, teasingly, Grell slid his other hand across Undertaker's thigh, tracing exotic patterns there with his fingertips. He then took his member into his mouth, being very careful of his teeth, and fluttered his tongue over the head. Undertaker's breath hitched slightly as Grell began to slowly take him deeper, moving his hand in time with his mouth, thoroughly wetting Undertaker's member and causing him to become slightly more sensitive to all of Grell's careful little touches.

Grell sucked gently as he moved, noticing with satisfaction that Undertaker's breathing was getting a tad heavier and a little ragged. He squeezed lightly with his hand and peeked up at Undertaker with one eye, gaining further confidence as he noticed Undertaker's expression, which was a mixture of pleasure, longing, and, to Grell's delight, intense frustration. Obviously, his own pride was pissing him off, and the delicious irony only fueled Grell further on.

Undertaker bit back a small moan, drawing in a sharp breath as Grell began to move faster, now that he was accustomed to Undertaker's length. Undertaker couldn't help but buck his hips slightly, and Grell hummed gently around his member in response, causing a volt of pleasure to shoot up Undertaker's spine. Grell obviously knew what he was doing, and it showed in the way he wound his tongue around Undertaker's length as he stroked, which was making Undertaker go insane as he tried not to cry out.

Grell squeezed again, now humming and sucking at constant intervals, rapidly driving Undertaker toward a hard release. His tongue worked as he did, rubbing and sliding against Undertaker's length with practiced, perfectly timed movements. Finally, Undertaker cracked, and small moan escaped his lips as Grell slid a hand between his legs and rubbed the orbs contained beneath the gray fabric gently, causing a wave of pleasure to crash over Undertaker and his mind to black out for a second.

Grell smirked, knowing he'd won and that Undertaker couldn't deny it if he tried. However, he didn't stop there, as he craved a much larger, much more satisfying victory. Instead, he sped his movements up, becoming a bit rough now as he squeezed Undertaker's member tightly, and let his teeth graze just the slightest bit against the wet skin of his member, drawing another heated, slightly louder moan from Undertaker as a few coppery-tasting beads of blood dropped onto Grell's tongue.

Undertaker found himself gripping Grell's shoulders, not quite sure how he'd gotten to that point, and not really even caring anymore. His nails dug into the fabric of Grell's vest and pricked the skin below. Grell, in response, hummed again and slid his length almost entirely out of his mouth before taking it in deeper than he had before, and Undertaker's back arched as he fought to hold back his approaching orgasm.

Grell felt Undertaker's hot breath against the side of his neck, and the gentle gasps and groans he was now emitting helplessly drove Grell on further. Unable to ignore it any longer, he slid his own hand down his pants, sliding it along his own member in time with the strokes he provided Undertaker. Truly, Grell was a talented... entertainer, as satisfying himself merely increased his desire to make Undertaker sing like a bird.

"G-Grell..." Undertaker gasped, his voice gruff and slightly hoarse with lust. "Dammit... Grell, stop..." He begged weakly, knowing he was bound to scream if it continued much longer. Grell was really, _really _just too good at this, and Undertaker was now questioning whether their contest was very fair at all.

Grell giggled softly, obviously refusing to do as he was told. Instead, he then moaned around Undertaker's member, feeling his own orgasm approaching as Undertaker arched and quivered in response. He sped up just a little bit more, and Undertaker's heady, soft cry of approaching climax sent him over the edge. Thinking quickly, he took Undertaker in fully, gagging slightly on the hard length as it tapped the back of his throat. This, however, was all he needed to do, as Undertaker had finally reached his limit.

They came in unison, Grell with a final, soft moan about Undertaker's member as he pulled back slightly, allowing his seed to spill forth, and Undertaker with the loud moan Grell had been waiting for. Grell shuddered as Undertaker's release filled his small mouth, and after a few seconds, he pulled away, his mouth nearly overflowing. He tilted his head back, making sure Undertaker saw him swallow.

Undertaker shuddered as he watched Grell, and his heavy panting subsided for a second as he gulped, trying to regain control of himself. Grell smirked and winked naughtily up as him, raising his hand and licking it clean of his own release with slow, careful strokes of his tongue, and a very mischievous look in his eyes.

He giggled softly as Undertaker scowled, being hit with the realization that he'd lost now that the moment was over. Victory was sweet, to say the least, and Grell didn't regret what he'd just done; because he had a feeling he'd really enjoy whatever "punishment" Undertaker would have in store for him.

"You vulgar, lewd little..." Undertaker growled softly, his voice low and seductive. Grell merely smiled up at him, obviously pretty pleased with himself.

He wasn't very surprised when Undertaker leapt upon him, but he was very pleased, and his head met the hard floor without complaint. Undertaker gripped his shoulders, pinning him roughly and leaning in toward him with a dangerous smirk on his face. Grell gasped as Undertaker darted forward, and his teeth sank into the side of Grell's neck. He bit back a moan...

...Only to jump half a mile when there was a knock at the door, and William's voice sounded outside.

"Are you two okay in there?" He asked dryly, not really even sounding interested so much as annoyed. "I just ended the meeting. I think it went fairly well, really, considering I was left completely on my own with two demons staring down my neck." He added, a bit of a scoff in his voice. "Training is being scheduled as we speak, and three-fourths of the Library is out there on the courtyard, awaiting further instruction, while the remainder are out reaping. Would it kill you to help me this time, hm?"

Undertaker pulled away from Grell, his voice calm and even as though nothing at all had just happened, and he'd been reading a book or drinking tea instead of getting head from a very feisty little redhead.

"Point taken, William, Grell and I will be out to help as soon as I get Grell's nose to stop bleeding." He lied smoothly, though he was still scowling down at Grell, obviously furious that he couldn't carry out his revenge just yet. "He was a bit closer than I thought."

"Try chamomile tea." Sebastian's easy voice said, startling Grell further and causing him to squirm slightly beneath Undertaker. "It always used to help the Young Master's nosebleeds immensely."

"I never had nosebleeds!" Ciel spat, and Grell smirked when he heard the embarrassment and even mild humiliation in the kid's voice. "Hold your tongue, Sebastian!"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Hurry up, regardless." William's exasperated voice cut in, and Undertaker chuckled, grinning eerily down at Grell.

"Of course, William. Feel free to start without me, as I'm sure you'll need to spend a few minutes getting them all in line first. We'll be down to help with the actual training momentarily."

Grell heard a grunt of approval from William, and then footsteps as the two demons and the Head Shinigami walked away, heading for the courtyard. Undertaker scowled lightly, and he let go of Grell's shoulder and chucked him under the chin with one finger.

"I see this will have to wait." He said softly, and placed a light kiss on Grell's lips. "I suppose it's good that I'm a rather patient person, else William would be the one waiting. I suppose that if we're going to be training the others, it would be of great help if you could walk correctly." He said with a devilish smirk.

Grell grinned up at him seductively and winked. As Undertaker stood, buckling his pants again and grabbing his cloak, he returned the grin, and a Grell felt a shiver run down his spine.

"We'll see~." Grell cooed as he stood up, dusting himself off and tossing out his hair with perfect, very-practiced flicks of his head. Undertaker smirked back at him challengingly, and then slipped his cloak back on with one easy motion.

"We will indeed. But, first, it's time to teach a hundred and a half Shinigami how to fight. I'm sure you'll be a great teacher, Grell, as you're already a rather accomplished fighter." Undertaker said smoothly, and Grell smiled and blew a kiss at him, giggling bashfully.

"Flattery will get you everywhere~!" He giggled, and Undertaker bowed slightly and opened the door for him, a Chesire grin back on his face. Grell swept through the doorway, and Undertaker followed, contemplating just how he was going to get back at Grell as they headed for the courtyard.

Oh, what he was going to do to put that reaper in line...

Why, it made his mouth water.

xxx

Can you say... NINJA LEMON! 8D

Lol, as a thank you for all the wonderful replies and reviews I've gotten, I decided to reward you all with a little pleasant surprise. ;D I hope you enjoyed it!


	20. Surprise

8D I'm glad you all enjoyed the little surprise, lol. I know I don't reply to reviews all that often, but trust me, I AM reading each and every one of them, and they're always brightening my day. ^_^ Thank you all so much for your support, and remember, I AM listening to your couple requests! *wink wink*

xxx

Grell and Undertaker both leapt from the balcony and started briskly toward the left-side doors, which led out into the courtyard. Undertaker was grinning at Grell suggestively, and Grell smirked wickedly back at him, obviously knowing what Undertaker was thinking, and looking forward to it.

However, they said nothing as they reached the doors and exited out onto the courtyard, and both of them quelled their smiles; Grell a little more so than Undertaker. Obviously, they were keen on playing dumb and acting like nothing more than what Undertaker had told William had really been going on. Neither of them was really sure where the other stood as far as their relationship went, and they sure as hell weren't going to make it public, especially not when they were like this.

The courtyard was a grand, sprawling expanse of concrete about a mile long. It had been made specifically for the taxing task of training new Shinigami years ago, and the expanse of concrete was peppered with pillars, walls, and false-towers, creating a stone maze that was as realistic as it was treacherous. It resembled London, to be honest, and Undertaker had a feeling that it was because William was extremely fond of the grand town, as, it had, in his previous life, been the place of both his birth and death. In front of the false-London, however, there was a smooth, open area that was as wide as the town, but completely clear of pillars or towers. The ranks were gathered here, and being herded into their specific places by a very disgruntled Head Shinigami.

William was lining up the Shinigami into ranks based on their skill levels. Naturally, those qualified as reapers were placed in a higher category than those who only ranked as maintenance personnel, and the office crew ranked above the janitors. However, all of them had some basic ability, as sometimes shifts were switched if they were short in a certain department, and they all had death scythes. Granted, some were more complex than others, but they all served the same purpose of reaping. Besides, all Shinigami had some sort of instinct when it came to fighting, as it was in their blood; reaping _was_ a risky business. The important thing was to hone that natural fighting instinct, and that's what William was aiming for now, as opposed to teaching them how to fight, which they all already knew to some degree, thanks to what went on in basic training, as well as what came naturally.

William wasn't being very gentle about it, though, as his nerves had been tested beyond their limits by this point, and he was nearly at the end of his rope. He was just rapping a secretary over the head with his death scythe as Undertaker and Grell walked out, and he was speaking very loudly, terrifying the poor worker before him.

"I _told_ you! Your place is over _there, _not here. You wouldn't last a damn second in battle if you tried fighting with the reapers! They're going in first!" He barked, pointing his death scythe off in the section where the now teary-eyed secretary was supposed to be, and glaring to make his point as the secretary scurried off obediently.

"He's good at giving orders, at least." Undertaker said quietly to Grell, and Grell snickered into his hand. "Not so sure about the 'kind and nurturing boss' bit, though."

William, keen-eared as he was, heard them coming, and turned to face them as they came to a stop before him. His left eye was twitching as it always did when he was extremely stressed, and he closed both of them briefly in order to get it to stop.

"About time." He scoffed, his eyes opening and flashing with anger as they flicked rapidly over the two, taking in every detail quickly and carefully. "For the love of the Gods, Sutcliff, pull up your zipper!"

Grell turned beet red and quickly turned his back, doing as he was told as Undertaker's laughter carried across the courtyard, making everyone look up at him and stop whatever they had been doing.

Suddenly, as one, they all dipped into a deep, silent bow. Undertaker's laughter subsided immediately. Grell turned back around, face still tinted red, and was surprised to see Undertaker frowning deeply as he surveyed the crowds with a solemn, almost melancholy air about him. He glanced at William, and was twice as shocked to see him giving Undertaker a subtle look from the corner of his eye, a look that conveyed several things at once, all of them seemingly conflicting not only in William's eyes, but in the very reaper himself; respect, gratitude, anger, sadness, honor, pride, _jealousy..._ they all paraded through those flashing, dual-colored depths, conveying more emotion in one second than Grell had seen in _years_ of being around the brunette. Grell was struck speechless, and he turned his eyes to the mass of Shinigami who were all showing their respect... to the retired Shinigami, instead of their leader, who had just been breaking his back to try and get everything in order for the last two days. He glanced at Undertaker again, and the way he was frowning showed that Undertaker was, clearly, feeling guilty. Though he didn't let on that he'd seen the look William had given him, Grell knew, he _knew,_ that the elder Shinigami had.

And, in that moment, he knew he'd seen something that William really, _really_ would have not wanted him to see.

However, he said absolutely nothing, and Undertaker slipped on an easy grin again, though Grell could tell, from everything he'd just observed, that it wasn't exactly earnest. William looked away quickly, his eyes still flashing with a glint that was respectful and honorable, bitter and jaded...

Undertaker summoned his scythe, and he called out loudly, startling several of the closer Shinigami out of their bows and making them take a step back.

"What the _hell _are you lot doing?" He cried, sweeping his scythe in a grand arc, stopping the blade a second before it beheaded a nearby office worker, who let out a weak cry of shock as the cold metal gently, harmlessly tapped against his neck. "Leaving yourselves open like that? It's the fastest way to get yourselves killed."

Weak laughter went throughout the ranks as Undertaker pulled the scythe away and patted the head of his would-be victim, smiling down at him apologetically. The office worker did his best to smile back, but he was trembling uncontrollably, and his knees very nearly gave out on him.

Apparently, William had made it quite clear that their scythes were far more dangerous than they thought.

"Indeed." William said curtly, his face an emotionless mask as he turned toward the crowd, which had been divided into three ranks, going from left to right: Reaper, office, and maintenance, respectively. "Which is why we'll be showing you some techniques, and then letting you all try them yourselves. I know some of you are rather inexperienced in this sort of thing, but this _is _crucial. I suppose it's a good thing that, too a degree, sleep is optional for us, because I expect this all to go on without stopping until we have everything mastered." He said cryptically. "Someone will be out here at all times, either teaching or being taught. You will be allowed to leave and rest if you need too, but I expect you all to try your hardest. It may be the only thing that saves us."

"Sir, yes sir!" The ranks called out, and a small, cold flash of approval glinted William's eyes, and he readjusted his glasses with two fingers, the sunlight reflecting off of them.

"Sutcliff! Undertaker!" He barked, turning back to his current second-in-commands. "Undertaker, as a retired Head of Management, as well as the oldest and wisest of all of us here, you are naturally extremely skilled in your fighting ability. You will be helping me teach."

Undertaker saluted dutifully, grinning as he earned several laughs from the ranks, and William turned to Grell.

"Sutcliff, while you've shown less than... _professional_ behavior in the past," William said with a raised eyebrow, and Grell grinned back sheepishly, scratching his ear with one finger. "You have shown to have very proficient skills in combat, so you'll be aiding Undertaker and I. When attacked, many others in your position would have died, but it seems a combination of both luck and talent saved you, so you'll make a good instructor. For once." He said, quirking an eyebrow at the redhead, who merely batted his eyes and giggled.

"Where's Mr. Knox?" William called out to the reaper rank squadron, who were to the far left.

No one answered for several seconds, then a strawberry-blond young female called out "He's out reaping, sir!"

"When he gets back, send him straight to me. He'll be helping the three of us." William said, and the girl nodded back obediently.

"Yes, sir!"

William closed his eyes and let out a low breath, then turned to face Ciel and Sebastian, who were standing off to the side once again, watching the proceedings with the same mock disinterest. Ciel raised an eyebrow at William questioningly, and Sebastian's smirk was predominant, as he didn't even bother pretending to be ignorant of what was coming next.

"Demons," The brunette said calmly, though his eyes were full of distaste that borderlined loathing. "I'd like for you to help. If we'll be fighting demons, it only makes sense that we should train with demons, since we've been provided the opportunity."

"We have no interest in combat, reaper." Sebastian said smoothly. "The Young Master will not be fighting, and my only aim is to make sure no harm comes to him, be it from either of our species. To be frank, we are neutral in this, and we intend to stay that way, Shini-"

"Sebastian," Ciel interrupted softly, and the eternally-enslaved butler looked down at him, his eyebrow quirking, half in surprise, half in disbelief.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Train with them." He said calmly, glancing back up at him and waving his hand dismissively. "What he says is true, and this is not a battlefield. No harm will come to me here; have they not treated us as well as a rival species can? Besides, if we were truly neutral, we wouldn't have warned them of anything. We are, by all rights, their allies, if only temporarily." He blinked calmly at Sebastian, and gave him a small smile. "But, you won't lose to them. Not even in theory, now will you?"

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian replied. His smirk didn't waver, but his eyes flashed red with quiet outrage. "I will not lose, even in practice."

"Good." The midnight-haired youth purred with satisfaction, arms crossed as he scanned the assembled Shinigami with mild curiosity. "Proceed."

Sebastian walked forward obediently, and Undertaker tilted his head, considering something quietly to himself. Finally, he stepped forward, passing Sebastian as he approached the ex-earl. He knelt before Ciel and whispered something to him, his hand cupped next to the boy's ear. Ciel gave him a mild look, then tapped his lower lip, thinking whatever had been said over. He whispered something back, and the Undertaker chuckled softly before, in a airy whisper, he replied with something that made the young demon smirk in amusement. This continued on, without even keen-eared Sebastian, who glanced back at them with a quirked brow, being able to hear what they were saying.

William looked a little irritated at this small interruption, but he turned away without making a comment. He chose instead to focus on Grell, who was grinning eerily at Sebastian and, just as William looked, gave the demon a suggestive wink. Sebastian was standing four feet away from Grell, and still leaning away from his general direction, and deep frown on his face as he glared at the redhead. William couldn't help but allow himself a small smirk at Sebastian's obvious discomfort, and, for once, he found himself proud of Sutcliff.

"Sutcliff, Sebastian, you're first up." He said curtly, striding over to them and wiping the smile off his face. "Sutcliff, your old scythe will be re-issued to you until this crisis has passed." William said, materializing Grell's chainsaw and tossing it to him underhand, much to Grell's immense delight. He squealed happily as he caught it, and Sebastian rolled his eyes, looking like he was in pain.

"I want you two to do everything except kill each other... or put each other out of commission and unable to fight. All else is fair. Are we clear?"

Sebastian gave a small nod, glaring daggers at Grell, who grinned back sadistically and revved his chainsaw.

_"Go!"_

Sebastian was in the air immediately, knives drawn and flashing in the light. He landed atop a tower in the false-London, and his arm flashed out, dotting the ground with a row of surprisingly sharp silverware that stuck into the concrete and cracked it like an egg in the place where Grell had been a second before.

Grell, however, was literally running up the wall adjacent to the tower, eyes glittering wickedly as they focused on Sebastian. He crested the top within a second, and Sebastian whirled to face him as the chainsaw roared to life and cut the air where his head had been a split-second before, the blade just clipping the demon's cheek, and leaving a small cut there. Frowning deeply at this point, Sebastian danced back, a fork flashing out and at Grell.

Grell blocked it with an easy twist of his chainsaw, reflecting the weapon off the side of the blade, and it twirled away and bounced to a halt several feet away. He leapt at Sebastian once more, cackling and swinging at him again as they came face-to-face.

"Just like old times, eh, Sebas-_chan?" _He cried delightedly above the roar of his scythe. Sebastian bared his fangs in a snarl of contempt, and dodged away again as Grell swung the chainsaw low, just barely missing his legs. Flipping backward, Sebastian produced several more knives, and then leapt away, heading for a higher tower.

Grell followed, hot on his heels, his teeth bared in a grin of malice. Sebastian was, indeed, getting an unsettling sense of _deja vu, _now that Grell mentioned it.

_All we need is a lady in red... _He thought as he turned and launched his weapons again, smirking as they clipped a few hairs from Grell's bangs, sharpening his haircut just a little bit.

Grell was less than pleased with this sudden makeover, and his near-insane grin changed to that of a malicious snarl. He swung at Sebastian much more aggressively than he had before as Sebastian produced yet more weapons from inside his coat, and the demon was forced to dance back again, a few forks ripped from his hand by the spinning, screaming blade.

Undertaker, meanwhile, was watching the fight carefully and picking up Ciel, who was giving him a bit of a sour look at being manhandled. He wasn't fond of anyone but Sebastian touching him, but he had a feeling this would be worth it.

Probably.

"You're sure of your aim?" The young demon remarked dryly, perched like a baseball in Undertaker's hand. Undertaker grinned up at him, readjusting his grip on the tiny demon, who was teetering and trying not to fall.

"Would I be risking our allies if I wasn't?" He said with a grin those rose the hairs on the back of Ciel's neck. "Really, now, I'm not that crazy."

"For your sake, I hope not." Ciel huffed moodily. "Fire away, then."

Undertaker hefted him a bit, then launched Ciel with one large swing of his arm that nearly made him fall on his face. Ciel went flying fast, and startled cries rang out throughout the ranks as the young demon flew like a bird.

Ciel was heading directly for Grell, his intended target, who was entirely unsuspecting. He smirked, marveling at the Undertaker's skilled toss as he began to close in on his prey. Suddenly, he bared some surprisingly large fangs and claws, aiming for the Shinigami's head as he came in for a crash-landing.

Both Grell and Sebastian were caught completely off guard as Ciel attached himself to Grell's upper body, coiling himself around the Shinigami and sinking his fangs into his shoulder. Grell, jarred to the side by the force of the assault, yowled in pained surprise, his scythe clattering from his hand as he fell from the roof and plummeted for the ground, the young demon gnawing vigorously into his shoulder.

"Young Master!" Sebastian shouted in distress, leaping down after them. He reached out for Ciel, his fingers brushing the youth's sleeve...

...And was side-swiped by a very furious Ronald Knox, who hit Sebastian's side knocked him entirely off course, sending him into a tumble through the air.

_"What in the hell are you doing?" _Ronald snarled with surprising ferocity, his hands closing around a baffled Sebastian's neck as they fell. _"I thought-"_

Sebastian never found out what he thought, because he thought just a little bit quicker. He suddenly grabbed Ronald's sides, rolling them in the air with ease and using Ronald as a rather squishy landing pad.

Ronald's hands fell away from the demon as he hit the brutal concrete, all the air crushed from his body. His glasses, knocked loose by the force of the blow, clattered several feet away. Grell, unfortunately, landed on them just as he and Ciel came crashing to the ground, Ciel taking a leaf out of Sebastian's book and using Grell as his landing base of choice.

Ciel was ripping Grell a new one, and the startled Shinigami was having a bit of trouble fending the surprisingly-strong young demon off. Winded and getting increasingly angry, he grabbed each of Ciel's wrists and forced them away, snarling and snapping at the demon's face as he did so, trying to roll his body in order to pin the youngster.

Ciel hissed back, his eyes a blazing red, the eyepatch having come off during his sudden flight. His contract seal blazed purple, and Grell knew Sebastian was coming a second before he got there.

He rolled, fueled by adrenaline, and kicked Ciel off viciously, scrambling to his feet and backing away from an approaching Sebastian with his teeth bared and fists ready. Ciel lay in a gasping heap nearby, clutching at his stomach where Grell had kicked him and panting for air.

Sebastian bent and picked up the now-winded Ciel, and his eyes were absolutely murderous as he began to stalk toward Grell. Grell backed up, having no death scythe, and his back hit the concrete wall behind him. He hissed from between his teeth, and Sebastian's eyes narrowed dangerously. Grell was dead, dead dead _dead..._

The roar of another engine entirely sounded from above, and Sebastian looked up, his eyes widening. He just barely managed to leap back as Ronald's own death scythe crashed into the ground, sending up a cloud of concrete-dust as it utterly destroyed the stone below. Ronald, who'd been standing on his death scythe and riding it down, snarled at the demons and hopped off in one quick movement. He raised the heavy machine from the ground with almost frightening ease, backing up so that he was standing in front of Grell defensively.

Grell shot him a grateful look, and Ronald flashed a quick, strained smile back at him, not seeming to care that Grell had accidentally destroyed his glasses, even though he was now reduced to squinting in the bright sun, his eyes beginning to water a little. He did, however, turn a nasty glare back at the demons, eyes glittering dangerously as he spoke.

"You bloody _traitors..."_ He hissed. "I swear, I-"

"That's quite enough, Ronald." Undertaker's cheery voice said from above, and all four of them looked up sharply to see both Undertaker and a rather unimpressed William looking back down at them. "They're not traitors in the slightest."

_"But-"_

"I'll explain in a moment, Ronald, seeing as you were out on duty during the meeting." William said curtly. "But for now, I think all of us want to know what in the hell were you thinking, Undertaker?" William hissed, turning on his friend and creator with a very irritated look. "You might have just completely destroyed our only alliance, and-"

"That was entirely consensual." Ciel said, sounding a tad bored as he licked a bit of Grell's blood from his fangs and gazed calmly up at William. "He suggested it, yes, but I must admit it was a good idea, so I went with it."

"Young Master..." Sebastian said, clearly surprised as he looked down at his young lord. Ciel looked back up at him, a cool smirk on his face, daring Sebastian to challenge his decision.

"I wanted to see what you would do." He said, his eyes glittering with a dark delight. "Is checking on the reflexes of my butler so bad?"

Sebastian frowned slightly, considering for a second, then a cold smirk slipped back onto his face.

"Were your results satisfactory, Young Master?"

"Hardly. I'm rather disappointed the blond one caught you by surprise, however, because he's hardly even big enough to do any damage, and you seemed entirely unaware of my arrival until far too late."

"Hey!" Ronald objected, but William held up a silencing hand, giving him a cold look, and Ronald immediately backed down and averted his eyes, ashamed.

Undertaker turned, addressing the shocked-looking crowd of Shinigami below him, who were all clambering forward and murmuring as they tried to get a better look.

"The point here was," Undertaker said, his typical grin stretching across his face as he spoke. "Always expect the unexpected. In this case, be prepared to get ganged up on, and prevent it by watching your back, and the backs of those around you."

Grell snorted with disgust, rubbing at his shoulder, which, along with a few long scrapes across his arms, was bleeding slightly and staining his newly-ripped dress shirt. Poor Ronald was looking very, very confused, and William rolled his eyes and leapt down from the building, taking Ronald by the elbow and leading him away to explain, and, most likely, lecture him about his glasses, all while looking rather irritated that he had to do so.

"It seems both parties had something to learn, here, and I hope the rest of you learn from their mistakes." Undertaker said, gesturing toward the remaining trio. Sebastian was looking down rather indignantly at Ciel, who was looking quite amused as he smirked back up at him. Grell was scowling murderously at the pair, and he stormed off to retrieve his scythe, humiliated.

"Anything else, Young Master?" Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow. Ciel snuggled into his arms, looking quite pleased with himself, indeed.

"I wanted a chance to sink my claws into that Grell. He's been irritating me with all of his scowling, not to mention that fact that I still have a bit of a bone to pick with him, anyway."

"I could have done that for you."

"I wouldn't have had any of the pleasure of it, then. Watching holds only half the fun."

"Touche."

"Also, in case you're hurt too badly to keep me safe, I want to know that I can take care of myself." Ciel said matter-of-factly. "You know who we're going up against, and at least one demon must survive to prevent the world from plunging into chaos, because once we're extinct, there's no turning back. Whether you live or die, though, I plan on taking over, regardless."

"Too true, Ciel." Undertaker said, leaping from the building and landing lightly next to them. "Which is why I encourage you to jump in whenever you feel the urge, as you're surely not that used to fighting. As a demon, you have natural fighting instincts now, just as the rest of us do, but it's important you hone them." He said cheerily. "But, that's what we're here for, isn't it? Your butler can't do much for you if he's missing his legs, or anything else like that, so you may as well learn how to make a fist and use it properly. Otherwise, things might get a little bit... _messy."_

Sebastian smiled coolly and set Ciel down, seeing the sense in this, but also a tad offended. Of course _he _wouldn't lose a fight, but if participating in the coming war satisfied the Young Master, then he could say nothing against it, as long as no harm came to him. It was getting a little difficult to amuse the kid, anyway. Honestly, Ciel needed a _war _just to keep himself entertained these days... it was a little out-of-hand, even for a demon.

"Now," Undertaker said as Ciel walked calmly away to view from a safe distance, passing a very pissed off Grell, who was just returning with his scythe. "It's my turn.

"Care for a little revenge, Sebastian?" He said, smirking and holding out his hand, his scythe taking shape there. "Though, it won't really be revenge if I kick your ass once more."

"Gladly." Sebastian said, his fingers already laced with knives. "I've been looking forward to a rematch. I'll make you eat your hat, old man."

Undertaker chuckled darkly, and the crowd watched in awe as the two leapt to the rooftops to begin a new battle, this one a little bit more personal than the last.

Undertaker perched on the very peak of one of the towers, keeping perfect balance there, his hair sweeping to the side as the wind caught it and began to toy with the silver tresses. Sebastian perched across from him on the opposite tower, his fistful of knives at his chin, prepared, ready, and reflecting the hot red glow of his eyes. He smirked at Undertaker, clinking the knives challengingly as an open invitation.

Undertaker moved first, giving his scythe a single twirl, then leaping high into the air, scythe a blurred arc as it sliced through the air. Sebastian followed, not missing a beat, and metal crashed against metal as Sebastian launched his knives, and Undertaker's scythe swung. He deflected the knives and nearly took off Sebastian's head in the same motion, grinning wickedly as he did so.

Sebastian flipped away elegantly, smirking as he did so and landing back where he and Ciel had been before with the click of expensive shoes against concrete. Undertaker landed as well, unabashed, and Sebastian caught the blade of the scythe as it swung downward at his face. Undertaker, thinking quickly, swung his leg out in a sweeping motion, the heel of his boot pointed directly at the demon's ankles. Sebastian was forced to either let go of the scythe or fall and possibly break a bone, so he released the blade and jumped away, the scythe slamming down just in front of him and neatly ripping his entire shirt open, exposing his chest. A trail of blood was flowing from a new scratch across his lightly tanned skin, and he winced as the hot blood began to flow down his torso.

Ciel smiled softly and raised an eyebrow, staring at the two with acute interest. Sebastian's eyes were cold and deadly now, and Ciel knew he was finally finished with playing around.

Ciel glanced over as a very disgruntled Grell sat down next to him on a stone bench, giving him a nasty look. Ciel responded with a cold smile and a polite nod of his head.

"I'll jump in if you will." Ciel said, the faintest hint of a chuckle in his voice.

"Pass." Grell scoffed, pulling his glove off with his teeth and starting to file his ruby nails with a file pulled from his jacket.

Sebastian lunged for Undertaker, and Undertaker ducked quickly as Sebastian's knives flew over his head, taking off his hat once again, and flying with enough force to somehow pin it to the wall behind him. Annoyed, he tried to wrench his scythe from the ground, the blade trapped in a crack in the concrete. A loud gasp broke his lips, however, as a fork thudded through his cloak and stuck in his chest, and he faltered back a little, the grip on his scythe loosening.

The crowd let up a loud, unanimous cry of shock, and Grell launched to his feet, horrified. But Undertaker ignored them all entirely, and reached up and wrenched the knife from his chest, not seeming too bothered by the wound, so much as pissed that he'd let it happen.

Sebastian smirked coldly at him, and Undertaker met the look with a deadly smile, suddenly mustering up all his strength and ripping his scythe from the concrete. He darted toward Sebastian, his boots flying over the tiles as he launched an attack that was somehow different from the ones before it. It was less playful, less lighthearted. His movements were more fluid and precise, more...

_Predatory._

He was getting a bit carried away with the fight, and a certain someone knew that he was reverting back to old instincts, which were fueled and sharpened by some very unpleasant memories.

Undertaker was getting ready to kill.

Sadly, he had to stop it.

Undertaker stopped dead in his tracks as William's death scythe clipped past both of their faces, angled from somewhere on the ground below, near Ciel. Sebastian glared down, being met with William's hostile, hawk-like eyes, which were just daring him to make another move. Ciel raised an eyebrow, not moving to even the odds for his butler, but shifting slightly with unease. He was starting to get a bit worried for Sebastian, as three on one (as Grell looked quite ready to move in and assist the other two) was hard for even him to handle, especially when they were high-ranking, skilled Shinigami like the ones present.

"I think that's enough." William said simply, relief sweeping over him as Undertaker, who wasn't _too _ far gone, immediately came to his senses and lowered his scythe. "Blood has been drawn on both sides, and it's time everyone else put what they've seen into practice." He said, glancing toward the approaching sunset. "We're running short on time."

"He makes a good point." Undertaker said with a grin, turning and appealing to the masses below. "You heard him. Pick a partner and start training. However, since William explained what will happen if any of you are injured with a scythe, I ask that you stick to hand-to-hand combat right now. We'll practice with false scythes tomorrow."

Sebastian's look was cold as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself and buttoned it closed, hiding his wound and shooting Undertaker a look that plainly said "this isn't over". Grell noticed a small bloodstain budding on Undertaker's cloak where the fork had hit, but Undertaker seemed to take no notice, returning to the ground instead, as though he were completely unmarred, and had just finished a polite conversation, and not a brief, would-be death match.

"Classes, try to find a partner of higher rank. Don't be afraid to shed a little blood here and there, as long as it's nothing serious. Perhaps this is a good time to settle any disagreements from last week?" Undertaker suggested with a grin and an unseen wink.

He frowned slightly when he noticed everyone glaring at everyone else, and he held up a placating hand.

"That's not a call to riot, however. I told you to find partners, and I don't want to see anything larger than a group of four or five. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The tension in the air relaxed as everyone began teaming up in order to take advantage of an excuse to beat the shit out of each other. Sebastian came back down to earth, landing next to Ciel and kneeling before him, checking for injuries from his brief spat with Grell. Grell batted his eyelashes at the raven-haired demon, just to piss him off after losing to him. Sebastian grimaced deeply, scooped up a grinning Ciel (who was always amused by his discomfort), and then briskly walked away.

Ronald ran up to Grell, William walking behind him, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders tight with tension. Ronald had a new pair of glasses, William having had some spares, as he was always prepared. Always.

"Are you okay, Grell?" The blond asked, his voice laced with concern as he studied the rips in his shirt. Grell nodded, smiling reassuringly at him and ruffling his hair affectionately.

"It's just a few scratches, Ronnie." He said, looking at William over Ronald's shoulder. "Are plans still on?"

"Y-yeah... I'm still going to try..." Ronald said, cringing a bit as William came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ronald, do me a favor and go break up that fight over there. It seems to be getting a bit out of hand." William said, nodding toward a group of three, who were playing a bizarre game of catch with one of their hapless members. "In return, I'll overlook your slip in spectacles."

Ronald smiled at William, looking a bit relieved. "Yes, sir!" He said, walking briskly off with a small smile on his face. William turned a cold look on Grell, and rapped him over the head with his death scythe.

"Losing to a demon like that..." William growled lowly. _"Again_. It's disgraceful. Ronald made you look a little better, at least, but I don't want to see anything like that again. We have _standards, _Sutcliff. Now, go train."

William stalked away, leaving Grell to rub his head and whine in protest at the absurdity of it all. That just hadn't been _fair! _William would have been just as surprised, who was he to pick on a lady like that? At least _he _hadn't gotten stabbed! Why wasn't _Undertaker_ getting any guff for it...?

Grell looked up when a shadow fell over him, and Undertaker sat next to him on the bench, his fine silver hair ruffling in the breeze now that it didn't have a hat to hold it down.

Speaking of stabbing...

"Are you okay, Grell?" He asked gently, cupping Grell's chin and tilting his head back, studying his face. "That looked a little rough, I'm sorry. Still, better here than the real thing, right?"

"I'm f-fine..." Grell stuttered, feeling his face go red. "It's just a few scratches. Yours is a lot worse..." He said, frowning indicatively at the stain on Undertaker's cloak.

Undertaker laughed lightly and ran a hand through Grell's hair. "It's not deep. Why do you think I wear so many layers?" He said, tapping his temple in a "think-about-it" gesture. "It's partly for protection, and partly for warmth, as London does get pretty chilly, especially in the morgue.

"Regardless, let's go beat up some demons." He said, grinning over at the figures of Sebastian, William, Ciel, and Ronald, who were in their own group several yards away and battling fiercely. "Heaven forbid those two get all the fun, hm? I'm sure you want to pay a certain little demon back."

Grell grinned wickedly, grabbing his chainsaw and running off, completely forgetting his worries as the thought of landing a few hits on Ciel took first priority. Undertaker laughed lightly, following after him at a more leisurely pace. He was rather eager to even things out with Sebastian, himself.

Training in the Shinigami Realm is really just too much fun.


	21. Attack of the Kiss

The training was hard, fast, and brutal. The day slipped into night less than an hour later, and the games were rough and tough as everyone struggled to perfect what skills they had while trying to avoid blows. Some, like the maintenance workers (who were mostly made up of newer or lazier Shinigami), weren't very well off, and took many hard hits from the more advanced classes, resulting in a few brawls that were so one-sided that William had to come in and kick some ass to break things up.

Some, however, were in their prime; primarily, the reaper class and the demons. They were used to working in the dark (as they got sent out the most) and it was where they thrived. The odds were turned in the favor of these particular Shinigami, who were going to be the forefront of both the defensive and offensive. Among them, of course, was Grell.

He was honestly having the time of his life.

_"Sebas-chaaaan!"_ He crowed, leaping into the air and giggling like the maniac he was when Sebastian just barely got out of the way of his downward-sweeping chainsaw. "Watch your back!"

Aside from the initial blows Ciel had landed, Grell had sustained little damage throughout the course of the night; it consisted of a gash across his forehead (which Ciel had been flung halfway across the courtyard for, much to Sebastian's chagrin) and a few more rips in his shirt with some mild cuts beneath them. He hardly seemed to notice their presence, but Sebastian and Ciel were definitely paying the price for inflicting the minor injuries.

Undertaker had had his braid sliced off by a certain demon butler's knife, which had pissed him off immensely. Sebastian was currently trying to fend off Undertaker's attacks, with Grell throwing in a few jabs here and there, wherever he found an opening. Sebastian's main focus was on Undertaker, however, and Grell was stuck with playing with the baby as Undertaker continued to dominate the field. Ciel was far less experienced, having hardly ever fought at all as either a demon or a human, and Grell was getting a bit bored with him. He was obviously far more interested in Sebastian and Undertaker's brawl, but he settled with messing with the kid, as a little action was better than none at all.

Ciel had already gained several cuts and bruises from Grell's bullying, but he was dealing almost as much as he was receiving. To be honest, he was rather proud of himself, and so was Sebastian, apparently, as he kept smiling with what Ciel guessed was approval every time they crossed paths. However, Ciel had only caught a few glimpses of Sebastian's apparent praise, so he wasn't totally sure whether the demon was proud of him, or just plain mocking him, as usual. Regardless, he bared his teeth and lunged for Grell again, rather enjoying the rare chance to be rowdy.

Speaking of people who love to be rowdy, Ronald was currently parrying with William, something he'd been hoping he'd have the chance to do for quite awhile. He was grinning as he fought, as he and William were apparently a rather even match, and he'd gotten several hits in on his superior. Ronald had to admit that William was a bit better than he was, though, but he was easily holding his own, and had no more than bruised cheek and a small cut on his collarbone. William's mouth-adorned with a small cut at the corner that contrasted with the one on his cheek-was set in a determined line that showed he was definitely having to concentrate, which meant Ronald was doing well.

Right?

He certainly hoped so.

William was using all the stress he had acquired over the past few days well, as he was throwing martial-arts-esque jabs at Ronald and only occasionally making a hit as Ronald's judo-kickboxing style contested with his own. He had to admit the kid was good, and he was rather pleased that his selection in teachers seemed to be working out nicely. He ducked as a perfect roundhouse-kick from Ronald nearly caught his face, and darted a hand upward, grabbing Ronald's foot and yanking hard, causing Ronald to lose balance and fall.

Ronald, quick as ever, made a windmill motion with his legs, using his hands to propel himself. One twisted free of William's hand, the other coming around and sweeping for his feet, causing him to falter.

William went down hard, his feet knocked out from under him, and an absolutely baffled look on his face. Ronald was up again instantly, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet with his fists at the ready by his chin.

"Who says breakdancing doesn't teach you anything?" He said with a grin, receiving a scowl from William, who rubbed at the back of his head, which had struck the concrete as he fell. "Bring it!"

William complied, getting to his feet and darting toward him like a snake, continuing their spar with twice the drive, as his pride was getting the better of him, and he didn't wish to be seen as weak. Not at such a critical time like this.

Especially after what had happened before..

Grell, meanwhile, was still teaching a little monkey how to dance.

"Ahahaha~!" He laughed, sweeping the chainsaw at Ciel for what seemed like the hundredth time, smirking wickedly as Ciel grit his teeth and pulled away from the spinning teeth. He just barely missed the blade, with less than half of Sebastian's grace, but with twice the luck. He was getting better, but Grell was extremely good, and it was amazing that he hadn't lost a limb by now.

"Dance, fucker, dance!" Grell snarled delightedly as one blow finally landed on Ciel's arm, causing the young demon to emit a small scream. "Gotcha!" He crowed, lunging at him again as the demon's blood spattered wetly to the concrete.

Grell grinned in delight as it brought about the result he was hoping for. Sebastian darted from the side and swept Ciel up, doing his best to keep Undertaker at bay as he did so. Undertaker's scythe swept by perilously close, and Sebastian winced as a large cut opened up on his cheek, a few drops of blood hitting the ground and mingling with Ciel's in a crimson puddle.

He held Ciel bridal-style and backflipped away, his feet brushing by the Shinigami attacking them. Grell swung again, and his screeching scythe caught Sebastian's shoe, completely ripping it away from his foot.

Sebastian stumbled a bit as he landed, thrown off by the sudden imbalance. Undertaker took his chance and swung at the demon once more, grinning wickedly as Sebastian, knowing he had no time to move, ducked forward over Ciel, a long wound opening down his entire back. Ciel gasped, jolted, and Sebastian's eyes met his reassuringly, glowing faintly in the dark of the night.

Grell cackled, leaping a small distance into the air. One foot landed on Undertaker's shoulder, and he launched himself from there, swinging down at Sebastian's still-exposed back, with the full intention of ending him.

Sebastian, still cradling his Lord, leapt to the side as soon as he heard the roar of the scythe. However, he wasn't fast enough, and he let out a low grunt of pain as Grell's scythe rent down and slammed into his leg, cutting it to the bone. It would have completely sawed it off had Sebastian not been so fast, but it still left a nasty wound, and the demon let out a low grunt of pain as he went down. Blood spattered across the ground, and Sebastian landed hard, rolling and streaking blood, but managing to keep Ciel safe by using the cage of his arms.

William caught one of Ronald's fists and looked up, narrowing his eyes as Grell hit the ground running, intent on finishing the job.

Undertaker, however, caught Grell's shoulder and wrenched him back, much to Grell's dismay. Grell turned on him with a furious snarl, his eyes flashing with the thrill of the fight; drunk with it, even. Undertaker grabbed the wrist holding the chainsaw, and he tugged Grell forward firmly, his voice the same icy breath he used to boss Grell around in the bedroom.

_"No."_

Grell stopped, coming to his senses within a second, and stared up at Undertaker apologetically. Undertaker gave him a small, understanding smile, and released him without chiding, much to Grell's surprise.

Apparently, he knew what it was like to get a little carried away when the thrill of a fight took hold.

"That's enough. I think he should be allowed to go and heal himself." Undertaker said calmly, offering a hand down to Sebastian to help him up. Sebastian gave him a bit of a look.

"I can't stand, regardless, so there's no point in that." He said simply, releasing his grip on Ciel. and giving Undertaker's hand a sneer "But, it was well worth it. You're improving, Young Master."

Ciel rolled out of Sebastian's grip and got to his feet, dusting himself off lightly and looking coolly at Sebastian.

"Thank you, Sebastian. He's right, though. Would you like to head back now?"

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian said with a small smile. Ciel returned the smirk, and he held out his hand. Sebastian took it this time, and Ciel knelt and placed his other hand to the ground, closing his eyes and beginning to form a portal.

"Byeee, Sebas-Chan." Grell said with his typical, shark-like smile.

"Stay out of sight while you're down there!" Undertaker called. "We don't want anyone asking questions!"

Sebastian glared at them lightly as he disappeared with Ciel, headed into the Demon Realm to repair their bodies. They left only two smalls pool of blood behind, where Sebastian's wounded leg had been a second before, and where Grell had cut Ciel's arm.

They returned roughly half an hour later, and Grell and Undertaker stopped dueling each other (which had been far more entertaining for Grell, indeed) and began to pick on the demons again, continuing on like that all throughout the night.

They continued on throughout the next day as well, and well into the next night. Occasionally, some of the Shinigami, or even the two demons (as being away for two long would have caused suspicion in their own Realm) would slip away and take a much-needed break, but some, like Grell and Undertaker, William and Ronald, stayed out the entire time, intent on making sure that they were ready for whatever happened next.

Finally, just as the sunset of the third day was breaking, a battered and breathless William drop-kicked Ronald, who wasn't in much better shape. Ronald went down and stayed there, gasping for breath on the concrete and watching with blurry eyes as William sprang to the top of one of the towers, overlooking the entire training grounds, which were still writhing with the activities off all the trainees below.

"Everyone!" William called out between gasps for air, resisting the urge to double over to suck in some much-needed oxygen. "Everyone! Attention, please!"

The crowd below slowly stopped their fights, most of them just as winded as William was, and many twice as battered, or worse. They looked up at him, the sound of a hundred and fifty Shinigami panting for air filling the courtyard, with a few murmurs scattered amongst the ranks.

"I think that's enough. I'm _very _proud of all of you for doing as we asked, and toughing it out like that. I've seen a lot of progress, and I have really high hopes that we'll all get through this." William said, keeping his voice surprisingly steady between pants.

"However, we all know that's not the case, and that some of us may not be coming back after tomorrow." He said, his voice becoming a bit softer, gentler, losing the strong, authoritative tone almost entirely.

Somber silence reigned throughout the courtyard, and everyone bowed their heads slightly, friends and acquaintances and rivals alike meeting eyes everywhere, exchanging a silent but incredibly clear message. William continued on, his voice sober and, Grell noticed, edged with a tone that was almost downtrodden.

"Let me say that, as your creator, I've always been proud of all of you." William said, sitting down on the top of the tower and surveying them all with surprisingly soft eyes. "I know some of you may not think that sometimes, and that I can be a little rough on you, but it's the truth. I get frustrated, annoyed, even angry, but I still cherish all of you, and it tears me apart to know that I'll probably lose some of you tomorrow. I see all of you as my family, and even if we are a little dysfunctional, I couldn't hate any of you if I tried."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of morning air. A small drop of blood slowly ran down the side of his face from a cut near his temple, and he slid his eyes back open without even bothering to brush it away. He was slowly scanning the entire courtyard, and everyone was looking back up at him. Some had tears in their eyes, some were already crying, and many looked a little... _guilty._

"It's been an honor leading all of you." He said, softly but clearly. "I ask that you spend today resting up and spending time with those you're closest to. Sadly, I can't spend time with all of you, but let me say that I earnestly wish I could."

Soft murmurs ran throughout the crowd as they realized what had just been said, and William gave them a tiny, soft smile, something that most of them had never even seen before, or had ever dreamed of seeing at all. He stood, bowing a bit to them; just another sign of how earnest he was being when he said this.

"But, enough of this depressing chatter. Go inside and rest, you've earned it. Head to the infirmary if you need to, as they've whipped up a little something of mine that will help you heal overnight. Also-"

"William!"

Everyone looked up sharply as Ronald sprang to the top of the tower, landing next to William. William looked mildly surprised, and he raised an eyebrow at how nervous and fidgety Ronald appeared to be. Surely he didn't want to continue the duel or something...?

Ronald glanced down at Grell, who gave him a massive grin and a wink of encouragement, flashing his rockstar-hand up at him. Undertaker gave Grell a bit of a funny look, but then realized what was up when Ronald made his move.

Ronald hesitated a second longer, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, then stepped forward boldly and put a hand on either side of William's face, pulling him forward and pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

William's eyes went very wide, and he stayed frozen in place, shock paralyzing every last muscle of his body. His mind came to a screeching halt, and every coherent thought left him in an instant. All he could do was stare down at Ronald, who had his eyes closed and his cheeks colored a shy pink; something that was quite unusual for the energetic, eager-to-please youth.

Ronald released him after several seconds, a soft shudder passing throughout his body. He took a step back, his eyes open and fixed on the ground. He looked away, feeling William-and everyone present-staring at him, and he fully expected William to shout at him and kick him off the roof at any second. Still, it would have been worth it to finally get _that _off his chest...

Total silence reigned throughout the courtyard for what seemed like an eternity. William, still utterly stunned, slowly raised a hand and touched his lips, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes still wide. His brain was having a hell of a lot of trouble computing what just happened, and it was obvious that he was reeling with shock. He felt some sort of hot, twisting sensation flashing and writhing in his chest, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Embarrassment? Anger?

No, something else _entirely..._

He continued to stare at Ronald, who continued to stare at the ground without offering a word of explanation, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The entire crowd stared at both of them, and Grell was the only one moving, as he was wiggling nervously with his hands clapped over his mouth, his eyes wide and bright with excitement.

What was staunch old William going to do about _that?_

Undertaker was the one who finally broke the silence... with nothing less than a huge grin and a very loud wolf-whistle.

Laughter suddenly rang throughout the courtyard, and the entire crowd broke into applause, many more whistles and several cheers going up. Even Sebastian and Ciel offered an amused, slow golf-clap, the two of them exchanging a grin that was usually only used by Undertaker.

"He did it! He finally did it!" Grell laughed joyously, tackling Undertaker into a tight hug. "I knew Ronnie could plant a good one on him!"

"I get it now!" Undertaker laughed, sprawled out on the ground now thanks to Grell. "Oh _Gods!_ That's why you wouldn't tell me!" He crowed, tears of laughter running down his cheeks. He was also very relieved, as he now realized that Ronald hadn't been running after Grell, but someone else entirely; his boss, and Undertaker's best friend.

William, still very red in the face, continued to simply stare at Ronald, who finally raised his eyes and met his gaze with a tiny, shy smile. This, not the laughter, was what jolted him out of his shock, and he felt his mind slowly kicking back into gear, and then going at a hundred miles an hour as he fought to get a grapple on everything.

"I've always really admired you." Ronald said quietly, so that no one in the assembled ranks, not even the closest ones, could hear him over their own din. "If that's the only chance I may get, then... I just had to take it. I'm sorry."

"Ronald..." William breathed, still reeling and unable to give him a proper reply. His voice was breathy and lacked its usual strength, which seemed to have been replaced with an almost... _timid_ tone. "I don't know what to say..."

"Just think it over, then." Ronald said with a tight smile, though William could hear, vaguely, the crushed disappointment in his voice. "I... I can wait, it's no big deal."

William nodded stupidly, and Ronald had hopped off of the tower and disappeared into the crowd before he could finally realize what he'd just said.

Oops.

That hadn't been what he'd meant... Not at all.

William was now debating how he was going to track down Ronald and just what in the fuck he was going to say when he _did _speak to the blond again, when a squealing, bright red bundle landed next to him and wrapped him in a crushing hug, completely cutting off his train of thought once again.

"That was so _cute!" _Grell cried out in an extremely high-pitched squeal, squeezing every last molecule of air out of William. "He did that so perfectly! I knew my Ronnie would come through! _EEEEEEEeeee~!"_

"Sut...cliff!" William gasped, now starting to turn blue instead of red. Undertaker laughed, grabbing Grell's arms and gently prying him off of his half-strangled superior. Grell simply bounced around, still squealing and not really seeming to mind either of them.

"I'm happy for you, William." Undertaker said earnestly, grinning massively and wrapping William in an affectionate, and, thankfully, much more gentle hug. "You've got more admirers than you think."

William sucked in a lungful of air, giving Grell a bit of a dirty look over Undertaker's shoulder. Grell simply grinned back, undeterred, and continued to bounce everywhere like some sort of hyperactive terrier.

"I suppose so, Undertaker." William said, watching the many joyous Shinigami walk back into the building and listening to their loud chatter and laughter. His eyes were getting a bit distant and a little misty as he wondered just how many of them he would lose... and how many of them would forgive him for everything that was about to happen.

"I just hope they know that."

xxx

BAWWW FLUFF! 8D

I'm happy to say that WilliamxRonald was a veeeeery easy request to fill, because THEY'RE ONE OF MY FAVORITES GUYS. 8D I'm so happy other people like them, and I'm happy to say they've been planned from the start! GO SLASH THEM!

Anyway, that was so much fun to right. Action and drama and fluff all in one!


	22. Just Stop

With Grell still squealing like some sort of dolphin-hybrid, the trio jumped from the tower and moved into the building, following the tail end of the crowd. William was lost in thought, his cheeks still a light pink as he stared at the ground and wondered about his ever-deepening predicament, and, more importantly, how to approach Ronald. Grell was hugging Undertaker's arm, cutting off all circulation and chattering nonstop about what he'd just seen, obviously loving the drama. Undertaker simply wrapped an affectionate arm around both of them and grinned, leading them both toward the infirmary, where they could get healed quickly before resting up.

"If you keep making that face, William, it's going to freeze like that." He said, turning his grin down at his friend and ruffling his hair. William scowled back up at him, smacking his hand away, and Undertaker barked a laugh.

"He's just trying to figure out what to saaaay~!" Grell squealed, wiggling with absolute joy. "I can help you, William! A lady is always well-versed in these sorts of things!"

"Thanks but no thanks, Sutcliff." William said dryly, replacing his blank-face with a bit of difficulty and heading up the stairs and pushing open the infirmary doors. "Just promise me you'll stop your screeching long enough to get some sleep, and we'll call it even."

"Rude!" Grell pouted, pulling away from Undertaker and flouncing into the infirmary with a whirl of red. Undertaker chuckled to himself and released William, who stood next to Grell with a look of "I don't know this guy, really." imprinted on his face.

The infirmary was full of laughing, chatty Shinigami, all of them stopping by to take William's advice and mend anything that might impede them in the coming battle as well as replenish some energy. William had slipped away during training the night before and had told the infirmary staff to whip up a potion of his own creation; one that enhanced the soul-like properties of the Shinigamis' bodies and sped up healing. He had used himself as a guinea pig before, and it was a very effective potion that only had one ill side-affect.

It wasn't very smart to use the potion on major wounds, as the rapid healing of broken bones, flesh, or muscle could cause them to shift in the middle of the healing process and mend incorrectly, which just caused a lot more trouble than necessary. It often meant a lot more discomfort and an even longer healing process for the patient, which William had found out the hard way when he'd snapped his leg while reaping, and had immediately used the potion without allowing it to heal slightly. However, it was wonderful for minor wounds, and was apparently extremely popular among the Shinigami who dared to brave it.

Grell, Undertaker, and William all took a vile of the tonic as a smiling, overworked nurse bustled by and offered them to the officers. William was the only one of the three who had ever used it, so it didn't surprise him at all when Grell uncorked the vile, took a swig, and nearly threw it back up again.

He'd "forgotten" to mention that, while effective, the potion didn't exactly taste like fine wine. He held back a smile as Grell retched and doubled over, trying his damnedest to hold it down.

Undertaker looked at William quizzically as Grell began to choke a bit. He gave Grell a bit of a worried look, then relaxed when Grell resurfaced with a gasp and a whine.

"That bad, huh?" Undertaker asked, uncorking his own vile and giving it a hesitant sniff. He made a face and pulled away immediately, covering his nose with one oversized sleeve and holding the vial away.

"Gods, William! That reeks!"

"Never said you should expect sweet tea, Undertaker." He said dryly, uncorking his own vile and downing it in one large mouthful. He didn't even flinch, as he was very used to it, and set his empty vile aside, looking at the other two expectantly.

Grell sat down in a chair, looking a little green. Undertaker looked at both of them, made a bit of a face, then shrugged and uncorked his own, downing it as quickly as he could. It was hard, as he gagged twice, and the corner of William's mouth twitched with silent amusement.

Finally, Undertaker set his vial aside and shuddered, covering his mouth with his hand.

"It's terrible, good Gods above..."

"It's worth it." William said simply. "You'll be scratch-free in an hour or so. Or, at least, as close to it as you can be." William said, glancing at Undertaker's stitched face meaningfully. "You'll be bouncing off the walls as well, which is why I normally wouldn't give it to Sutcliff, but with what's about to happen, anything goes."

Undertaker gave him a small smirk, and William continued past him and out of the infirmary, shaking his head as Grell's complaining reached his ears.

"It's so naaaasty!" He whined, his good mood dampened as he continued to gag slightly from the taste of the tonic. William rolled his eyes, then glanced down, watching a cut on his arm slowly begin to knit itself together.

Now he had to find Ronald.

He walked briskly across the Library, heading for Ronald's assigned room. Ronald, being a higher officer, slept on the second floor in the Higher Officer Wing, and he was just a few doors down from William's own room. All the Shinigami had their own bedrooms in one of the many wings that were separate from the main, book-keeping portion of the Library. Higher-ups slept on the second floor, while those with lower-ranking jobs took the first. Both were equal in quality and design; the higher officers simply got the second floor because they preferred it, William included.

William opened the door that lead to the Higher Officer Wing, which, like the other Wings, was a long hallway dotted with doors on either side that lead to everyone's own separate rooms, which they were all allowed to decorate as they so chose. William, as Head Shinigami, had the only door at the very end of the hall, in the largest room. Ronald was part of the special-forces team, which dealt with higher-priority reapings, and his room was on the right and three doors away from William's.

William took a deep breath, then approached the door, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. He was willing to bet that any officer worth their glasses was sleeping right now in preparation for the coming fight, and he didn't wish to wake them with unnecessary noise. He crept closer, slowed by his urge to keep silent, then slowly raised a hand and rapped, softly, on Ronald's door twice, biting his lip and waiting for a reply with anxious, bated breath.

He waited for several seconds, but no answer came. He raised his fist and knocked again, frowning at how the noise was still too loud for his liking, and how it echoed through the wing, despite his best efforts to keep quiet.

Again, there was nothing. Knowing that he would be pushing his luck by knocking again, William decided, instead, to just let himself in. Ronald was a very congenial person, afterall, surely he'd understand a little intrusion for matters like this? Afterall, he had told William to come find him.

Well, in a way, at least...

William tested the doorknob, and found to his pleasant surprise that it rolled and opened the door without complaint; the door was unlocked. William pushed the door open silently, grateful that he'd had maintenance grease all the hinges a few days before, and slowly stepped inside.

He closed the door softly behind him, and looked around the room. A few clothes were strewn here and there, and some knick-knacks accompanied them, which made William frown with displeasure, his obsessive need for order nagging at him. However, he'd seen far worse, and at least the room was pretty clean otherwise. Afterall, it was only Ronald's uniform and a few books lying out, in front of the single, oak wardrobe, which was pretty nicely kept.

Pausing to think the light clutter over, William guessed that Ronald had dressed for bed and left out his uniform so he'd be ready when the call to arms was made. On second thought, it was perfectly excusable and actually made quite a lot of sense. Better than flailing around in the wardrobe when everyone else was already outside, or just running out into battle with nothing more than pajamas on.

Smart kid.

"Ronald?" William called out softly, heading through the small entrance room and down the narrow hallway with a white-curtained window at the end, toward a door on the right. The small bathroom was on the left, and the only other door lead to Ronald's bedroom. Both doors were closed, but William knew where all the rooms were because all the quarters had the same basic layout (though decor could vary wildly from Shinigami to Shinigami, as William had no regulations for that besides "No trash and no fire hazards.", which was perfectly fair, really.)

William opened the door quietly, and blinked in mild surprise at what he found inside.

The room was Ronald, obviously having grabbed a vial of tonic himself, was nearly free of injuries, and William watched as a small cut on his forehead sealed itself and disappeared before his eyes. Ronald was dead asleep, his glasses folded and placed carefully on his bedside table, next to a small oil lamp and a book. All of this normally wouldn't have been so unusual, had William not been expecting Ronald to be up and waiting for him.

William turned red when he noticed one other thing; Ronald apparently didn't sleep in a nightsuit.

Or night clothes at all, for that matter.

His lightly-tanned, bare back was exposed, as the light blue, cotton covers had slipped down as he slept. His more private areas were hidden, thankfully, but William could tell where the line of his back petered out into the beginning of a nice firm, almost femininely-rounded rear. He looked away quickly at this, feeling very embarrassed although Ronald was sleeping like a rock and didn't even know he was there, and probably never would. Silently, he stepped back and closed the bedroom door behind him, creeping back through the main room like a burglar who had realized that his target house was occupied. He opened the main door again and stepped out into the hallway, closing it silently behind him and hoping to the Gods that no one saw him leaving. Who knew what they'd think after Ronald's "performance"?

Thankfully, the Wing was empty, save for he himself, and he was able to walk briskly out and shut the third and final door without looking the slightest bit suspicious. He let out a silent sigh of relief, readjusting his glasses with his death scythe subconsciously. Close call...

He headed for the infirmary once more, intending to go find the other two reapers, when a certain midget and his trusty, black-clad lackey stepped out in front of him.

William stopped in his tracks and closed his sharp-edged eyes, gritting his teeth and begging the very universe for patience. He really wished he could just kick their asses and throw them out right then, but it was impossible, and it would cost them allies that they very desperately needed.

So, he decided to hold his temper as best he could, and, instead of making the demons swallow their teeth as he so dearly wished he could, he settled for a verbal shot.

"Any reason you're in my way, _demons?"_ William gritted, opening his eyes and giving them both a very venomous glare. Neither of them seemed to care, though, and he was met with cold indifference to match his frosty attitude.

"We were simply coming to inform you that we'll be heading off now." Ciel responded coolly, his eye flashing brilliant red just to piss William off. "I'm sure you've been keeping tabs on us, so I decided to make your job just a tad easier by coming to you this time."

"Thanks for your concern." William spat, his voice dripping sarcasm. His fists clenched with rage, and Sebastian tilted his head the slightest amount, subtly daring William to even _think_ about laying a finger on Ciel.

"No matter." Ciel responded with a smirk, ignoring the bristling of the two rivals. "We'll see you again when the battle begins, Spears."

Ciel turned on his heel and walked away, his pace brisk and clipped. William glared at Sebastian, who smirked back wickedly, then turned and followed his master.

No good _ever_ came of those blasted beasts, and William knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could never truly forgive the species as a whole for what had happened to him before.

So, instead, he was going to hate them with every last fiber of his being, until his dying day.

"Demons," William muttered darkly to himself as the two opened a portal to Hell and vanished.

"Should be destroyed."

000

After much gagging, retching, and general disgust, Grell had managed to down the unsavory tonic, and he was now following Undertaker back to the old room where some activities that William wouldn't have approved of had taken place. Grell had come to find out, courtesy of Undertaker, that it was actually a long-abandoned guest room, and that it had two fold-out beds in the walls; not just chairs.

He was pouting, wishing he had known this earlier, but not keen on going back there. However, Undertaker hadn't really asked him about where he wanted to go, and had headed for that room automatically, not stopping to think.

"Why don't we just go back to my room?" Grell said after several seconds of deliberation, his arms crossed and his lips pouting. "It's much cozier than that dusty old place, and I don't mind sharing."

Undertaker paused, turning and considering Grell with a tilted head and a long black fingernail to his chin.

"...I really must be getting old." He said, suddenly splitting into a grin. "I never thought of that."

"It must be because I don't dress so stiffly all the time." Grell said with a dismissive wave of his hand a batting of his eyes. "Why, you forgot that I even work here."

Undertaker smirked, taking Grell's hand and kissing the back of it.

"I apologize, m'dear. By all means, lead the way." He said with a purr, causing Grell to squirm bashfully and blush.

Grell held onto his hand as he lead him back toward the first floor, where his own room lay in one of the Lower Officer Wings. In the past, he'd had a place on the second floor with the higher-ups, but since his demotion, he was stuck on the bottom, almost painfully close to the separate Office Wing where William broke his back with paperwork everyday.

He opened the door to one of the three wings that housed the many small suites of the lower-classes, and tugged Undertaker a few doors down and to the right, before reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out a large golden key that was adorned with a red satin bow.

Undertaker laid his chin on top of Grell's head affectionately, smirking as Grell slid the key into the lock and opened the door. He pushed it open and led Undertaker inside, pocketing the key again and locking the door from the inside with one quick movement of his wrist.

It was a room that was, literally, covered in red. A large, plush red rug covered the center of the floor, and a red wardrobe was placed in the corner, next to a few drawers that housed the rest of Grell's many outfits. Undertaker smirked as Grell towed him toward the back bedroom, not missing a beat. Both that door, and, of course, the door opposite, were painted blood red.

Grell's room was extremely neat and tidy, and it would have made William proud if it weren't covered in red from top to bottom. Undertaker smiled, noticing a camera on the bedside table, next to a small, red, velvet-covered book that could only be Grell's diary. He sat down on the satiny red sheets when Grell released his hand, and was pleasantly surprised when the sweet, faint aroma of cinnamon and roses rose up from them. Ah, so _that's_ why Grell always smelled so good...

Grell kicked off his shoes by the door, and Undertaker leaned back as Grell came forward and placed a hand near either of his hips, leaning in until he was almost sitting in Undertaker's lap. Grell's lips were parted slightly, and Undertaker could see the menacing tips of his teeth glinting in the low light. However, Grell's expression was rather needy and soft, not dangerous, and he felt himself attracted to Grell's subtle danger in a primal, lustful way,

Undertaker placed a finger under Grell's chin, tilting his head back slightly, his own lips parting a bit as he breathed in Grell's lovely scent. He searched Grell's face, smiling when he saw the faint blush on Grell's cheeks and the small uncertainty in his eyes. Grell looked away shyly, and Undertaker leaned forward again, reassuring him. Wordlessly, he placed his lips against Grell's, smiling into the kiss as Grell moved his lips against Undertaker's willingly as he moved closer to the elder Shinigami, sitting in his lap in earnest this time.

Undertaker gently gripped Grell's sides, sliding his hands down slowly and sensually as Grell parted his lips and allowed Undertaker to explore his mouth, shivering lightly as those fingers traced his hips. The kiss was gentler than what they usually shared, and Grell felt himself getting his hopes up, despite having told himself that he wouldn't.

Undertaker slid a few fingers beneath the hem of Grell's pants, and was very startled when Grell pulled away suddenly, breaking their kiss abruptly.

It had been the thing Grell had been dreading, and he felt his throat choke up as emotion overwhelmed him. This was what he got for thinking otherwise...

"Stop..." Grell said softly, casting his eyes down and sitting back.

Undertaker was shocked to see tears well in Grell's eyes, and Grell covered his face with his hands before they could escape him and slide down his face. His voice choked and small, he trembled gently as he spoke again, obviously overwhelmed.

"Just stop."

xxx

Sorry for the delay, my lovelies. ;w; But as I said in my review, I've been swamped and a little overworked, and I didn't want to end up giving you guys a crap chapter because I was brain-dead.

Eevee Tofu, I can probably work your OC in and give her a nice, violent death. XD Your request was pleasant and not off the wall, as you didn't want me to slash her with a canon character or make her a hero or something like that. I probably wouldn't have done it then.

Anyway, I hope you guys can forgive me. D8 The next few chapters will be veeery action-packed, and I have the next five days to devote to them. You won't be disappointed!


	23. The Eyes of Time

Undertaker stopped, stunned, as Grell turned away and sat down heavily next to him. His shoulders shook gently as he fought back sobs, and Undertaker felt an extreme wave of guilt and confusion wash over him.

"Grell?" He asked hesitantly, obviously concerned at the sudden change. He reached out a hand and gently touched Grell's arm, flinching back when Grell elbowed him away roughly.

"Don't touch me!" Grell snapped, whirling on Undertaker and baring his teeth threateningly. Undertaker, twice as shocked as before, leaned away, noticing with distress the tears tracking down Grell's face.

"Grell-"

"Don't touch me if I'm nothing but a sex toy to you!"

Undertaker gave Grell a blank look, bewildered and stunned at the sudden outburst. Grell sat back again, his eyes angry and hurt as he glared at the floor.

"You said you stayed with me because I was the only one who stayed around you." Grell said bitterly, his voice soft and choked with the tears pouring down his face. "You said that letter was only so formal because you didn't want to scare me off. But the thing is, you still left regardless, and I'm wondering what kind of idiot would think that they could run off, leave nothing but a letter, and then expect the person they just slept with to not be a little bit upset. And that's another thing; why in the _hell _do you even like me?" Grell spat bitterly, bringing up his knees and hugging them tightly. "It seems to me that you're just keeping easy ass around, is that right? You're at least smarter than everyone else in that way! I still can't help but think that I'm nothing but a replacement for this 'Claudia' person; a rebound, you know? Even if she _is_ dead..."

Undertaker said nothing for several moments, merely staring at Grell with a blank expression. Grell continued to glare at the floor, hurt tears running slowly down his cheeks.

Undertaker let out a slow, soft, mournful sigh. Slowly, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Grell's tense shoulders. Grell didn't knock him away this time, but he didn't welcome him, either. Undertaker gently pulled him closer and wrapped his other arm around Grell, hugging tightly enough to try and comfort him, but loosely enough that Grell was free to leave if he chose to do so.

"Claudia was my friend and confidant for many, _many _years before the attack." He began softly, earning a small, hesitant glance from Grell, who was hanging on every word he spoke. "She was a bright, intelligent girl. A little shy and always giving, with what seemed like a constant blush on her face. She would do anything to see her friends laugh and smile, and, me being me, I loved that about her. Gradually, I grew to love her as well, and she returned that affection wholeheartedly. When I created William, she was happy to help me teach him, and with the two of us as tutors, he grew into one of the most reliable, hardworking, eager-to-please people I've ever met. He loved and respected us, and we him. We were a very happy little trio, even if the other Shinigami saw us as a bit of a strange group; though, I'll admit that they were all affectionate about it, and we never got anything more than a little playful teasing. I was, therefore, a very happy man, and I had never been happier than when Claudia accepted my proposal, a mere day before the Swarm attacked us. Hell, even William laughed and smiled about it, because he was happy for the two of us, and, back then, a very long time ago... it wasn't so unusual for him.

"But, of course, this story doesn't have a happy ending." Undertaker murmured to Grell, his voice going from pleasantly tinged with nostalgia, to dark and bitter and clearly mournful, even angry. "Both the Demon and The Shinigami Realms started out with exactly one thousand demon and Shinigami, respectively. When I created William, however, the scales were tipped so that we had a thousand and one members. This frightened the demons, as they saw this as a threat, despite the fact that it was one mere apprentice who didn't threaten the Balance at all, because it was such a slight difference in numbers, and he was absolutely harmless. When they attacked and held us under siege for several hours that night, I tried to bargain, and told them that they had the ability to make more demons as well, because as the human race grew, we would have to grow with them, in order to keep the balance and to keep the souls under control. That was why the Gods gave us the ability to create more of our kind, as, of course, sex doesn't work for us.

"This tactic normally would have worked, because under any other circumstances, they would have seen sense. While stubborn, demons aren't nonsensical. However, while the Shinigami all ruled and worked together as a democracy, the demons had come under the rule of one; a fellow by the name of Lucifer, who had threatened, fought, and even tortured his way to the top through some of the most inhumane methods possible. He convinced the other demons that what I was saying was a cover up for what we were really planning; he said we were going to make hundreds of new apprentices, and then attack the Demon Realm and destroy them, so that we could take over the Mortal Realm and rule all. Of course, this was _his _plan, not ours, but the wonders of reverse-psychology meant that they took his word, as he was their leader, and they feared both him and his ruthless punishment. He said that they, the demons, would kill us all, and beat us to the punch. It was horrid, and everyone was in a panic... William even tried to give himself up to them, to save the rest of us, and I literally had to drag him kicking and screaming away from the doors..."

Grell sniffled and scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, seeming to be calming down a little. He didn't say a word, but he relaxed slightly. Undertaker paused as Grell began toying with a long lock of the silvery hair that had spilled over his shoulder. He took it between his hands and began braiding a new braid for Undertaker, which caused the ancient Shinigami to give him a small smile.

"I told you before; they killed all but the two of us, William and I." He continued, reaching out a sleeve and gently drying Grell's cheeks. "I, of course, would not be here if William weren't such a bloody genius. As I was returning to where I last saw Claudia before we were forced to split up because of the infamous 'All-For-One' command, I came upon the horrid sight of her... stabbed to death with her own death scythe." He said, shivering softly as his smile fell away. "It was an ornate knife that was small, but very effective. She was also small, but she was a ferocious fighter, and the way she wielded those weapons put most others to shame..."

He swallowed roughly and looked away, biting his lip until it almost bled. Grell glanced up at him, his brow furrowing a bit with worry.

"...I like to think she gave him a hell of a fight. She probably did, too." Undertaker went on after a minute, a sad smile crossing his face. "But he was just too much for her, and almost too much for me. That bastard Lucifer is the one who killed her. I know that for a fact."

Grell glanced at Undertaker uneasily as his voice became icy. His slender hands slowed their weaving of his braid, and Undertaker continued on, his face grim.

"She had had twin knives, much like how you were assigned twin scissors." Undertaker continued. "He had taken the second one and had somehow managed to avoid being seen by the last threads of what was once two great societies. He snuck up behind me and slit my throat, though I didn't know it was him at the time," He said, running a thoughtful nail over the neatly stitched wound at his neck. "And I turned around and managed to strike the first of the two blows necessary. But, as I told you earlier, I was bleeding to death, and very quickly. My scythe missed a Record for the first and last time, and he got away because I hit the floor, and couldn't get back up again.

"William saw what had happened, though he didn't see the specific demon, either, and he chose saving me over killing him." Undertaker said wistfully, absently toying with a lock of Grell's hair. "He had some stitches on hand then, and he wasted no time in putting my neck back together. He said it was a close call, but I have no recollection. All I remember is waking up in the infirmary and wanting to die all over again when I realized that William and I were alone, and everyone else-my beloved, included-was dead."

Grell eyed Undertaker silently, finishing the braid and tying it off with a small, inconspicuous ribbon. Undertaker ran a gentle hand through his hair, looking wistful.

"In hindsight, I suppose it was a good thing that he got away, as he still needed a demon around so that balance could be kept. William and I just hadn't been aware of the fact that the same demon who started the entire mess was the same one who got away and had the chance to rebuild Hell, starting the problem all over again. This means that we're twice as lucky that Ciel and Sebastian are as close to allies as we can get, as they will need to take over Hell, and we know that we can trust them. However, the Gods were furious that everything that they'd set in place had nearly been destroyed, but they were unwilling to fix our mistake for us, as they considered us unruly, stupid, and utterly undeserving of such a huge favor. Instead, they gave me these, and told me to fix it myself."

He retracted a hand back into his sleeve, and Grell could see him reach into the breast pocket of his lower coat and pull something out. Undertaker's hand reappeared through the overlarge sleeve, and clutched in it was both the Shinigami Bookmark and the Red Pen.

"William and I stopped time with the Bookmark so the world would not end, and then tried piecing everything back together. There was little we could do, though, as the Pen can only change what is to be, not what has happened. It didn't help at all that I'd completely lost the will to live, then, and William was the only thing who kept us going. I taught him how to form souls into Shinigami, but I was unwilling to continue working as one when we finally had enough souls made from old books to remove the Bookmark. To be frank, my will was broken, as I did-and still do-blame the entire incident on myself. Besides, with injuries like mine, something as simple as hitting my weak points and slicing my stitches open made me a very easy target, and it simply wasn't safe for me to continue working. William suggested a job as a mortician, and I accepted it with a lot of hesitation. The Mortal Realm has never been my favorite place, and having to deal with them constantly made my stomach churn. Like you, I used to lose interest in the dead when the Cinematic Records stopped playing. However, I learned with practice that the dead still have stories, even without Records, and I came to love my job, as it's entertaining and educational. I'd gotten my job in that particular area of London thanks to Ciel Phantomhive's great-grandfather and I working out a deal together over a poker game, and I have since worked with the family and exchanged information with them... though, that seems to be over, now that the Phantomhive line seems to have died out. Still, working with the bodies of those who die in the underground operations of the Black Market teaches you a lot, and you often have much to tell, to many different clients. I'm hardly out of business... legal or otherwise."

Grell considered this silently, laying his head against Undertaker's chest and closing his eyes. Undertaker began to stroke his hair with long, slow sweeps of his hand, and Grell felt himself relaxing a bit more.

"That's half the reason I refuse to come back to work in the Library. That, and, William deserves twice the respect I get, and then some. I don't like it when people bow to me like I'm one of the Gods even though I haven't lifted a finger to help the Library in any significant way in over three hundred years." Undertaker said simply. "William gets little no to respect from anyone these days, merely whispers behind his back and complaints to his face. They don't seem to realize how very hard he works to keep them all safe and happy, and no matter how much of a hardass he may be, he cares. Trust me, he's not the same as he used to be, and he probably never _will_ be, but he doesn't have a heart of stone. You just need some time and patience to get through to him; he's been hurt. A lot. It's not his fault.

"However, it's just not fair that I can walk in through the doors and have everyone bowing. Most of them don't even know me, they just know I'm descended directly from the Gods, and all of William's hard work gets overlooked whenever I'm even mentioned, much less when I come around. If I came back, they'd make me take position as Head Shinigami, and all of William's hard work; his blood and sweat and tears, would be for nothing. I love William like a son, and I could never do that to him." Undertaker said soberly, running his nails through Grell's hair. "Believe it or not, he doesn't exactly have great self-esteem, and something like that would break him all over again. Some days he feels like the world is against him as it is. Now, we're facing danger again, and everyone's looking at me like some amazing hero while William is in the background, pulling the strings himself. It's because of him that we trained, healed ourselves, and are as prepared as we can be right now. I didn't do a thing besides follow _his_ orders. I'm glad that they're finally waking up a bit, though, and dear Ronald has always been very respectful of him, and he's obviously even fonder of William than I thought." Undertaker said with a light chuckle. "I'm grateful that kid's around."

Grell lowered his eyes, suddenly remembering every time he'd complained and whined to and about William, and feeling very ashamed indeed. William had gone through a massacre and lived, struggled to push a destroyed leader and best friend back to his feet, then taken the lead himself and pieced and sewn everything back together from the ground up. Grell realized then just how much William really _did _care, even if he hardly ever stopped to spare anyone a smile, and he suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for poor William; no wonder he was always so uptight, always shooting Undertaker those bitter, jealous looks.

"That, Grell, is where you come in." Undertaker said softly, stroking Grell's cheek now. "You are the first in a very, _very _long time who didn't bow to me on sight. You knew who I was, alright, as William makes sure everyone shows me respect, even if he does end up getting snubbed for it, because even though he's jealous, he still idolizes me to this day. You had the gall to stand up and talk back to me, even, and you attacked me in my own shop." He said, chuckling softly. "In a very bizarre twist of events, I found myself completely and utterly entranced by you, because you made it very clear that you _didn't _like me."

Grell blushed and wiggled, and Undertaker chuckled and stroked his cheek again, relishing the warmth of Grell's skin beneath his hand.

"To be honest, I was head-over-heels. You had spunk, beauty, and pride on your side, and absolutely no fear to hinder you. I found it incredibly attractive, but not in my wildest dreams did I ever _think _I had a chance, as you preferred high-fliers like Sebastian and William himself. That's why, when you ended up in my shop that night, I took the one and only chance I might have ever gotten. To be frank, that was the only way I thought I could keep you around; by giving you the attention and the... _pleasure _you craved.

"But, the next morning, I got some seriously cold feet. I panicked, really, because I was sure that you wouldn't want to hang around someone like me. None of those before you did, and they could only have been half of what you were." He said, smirking as Grell blushed harder and ducked his head. "Honestly, I thought you would have considered me nothing more than a night of fun, so in the interest of making things as easy for you as possible, I left a note and then went about my work, because I was sure you were going to leave, anyway. However, I rather dearly wished you would have stayed, for more reasons than one, and I was still very disappointed-though not really surprised-when I came back and you where gone. I had wanted you to stay, but you hadn't, and I was resigned to think then that you'd probably never come back, as depressing as the thought was. I had found the one person who respected themselves enough to make me _earn_ the respect they would give, and it seemed as though I'd blown my chance entirely.

"However, after all that I went through that morning, and all the time since then, you've told me that you had wanted to stay, but you felt as though I were chasing you away. Grell, I swear to you, upon all the books in the Library, that it was an honest mistake made by someone who was being a coward. I _never _wanted you to go, and I respect and care for you for a lot more than just your body. Much, much more." He said gently, and Grell felt tears well in his eyes again, though they were of a different emotion. "I'm honestly and truly sorry for ever making you think otherwise, as I've obviously hurt you. I want you to stay because you're _Grell,_ not because you're like Claudia or because you've got a nice body. Though," He said, laying his head against Grell's neck and smiling softly. "I can definitely appreciate that, too.

"But, that begs the question; why do you like _me?"_

Grell felt Undertaker's gentle hand slide over his cheek and brush the new tears away. He raised his eyes and looked up hesitantly at him, as though fearing he'd be rejected, or even struck for his next words.

"...Because you stayed." He said softly, feeling foolish now. "I finally felt like someone wanted me around and actually gave a damn. I've been rejected and hurt, physically and emotionally, by everyone else... But you've never raised a hand against me. You never turned me away for being _me._ You saved my life..."

Grell turned in his arms and laid his head against his chest, and Undertaker hugged him close and kissed the top of his head.

"And I'd do it all again without batting an eye, Grell." He said softly. "Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that I don't care about you."

Grell nodded against his chest, closing his eyes and feeling Undertaker's kind, patient strokes through his hair. Undertaker wasn't angry, wasn't hurt and holding a grudge against Grell for being jaded and cautious. He was simply trying to make sure that Grell knew he always had someone to lean on, and it made Grell even crazier for him then, because he now knew that his affection was returned, not wasted.

He tilted his head back, searching, and Undertaker met his silent request with a gentle, loving kiss. Grell closed his eyes, feeling strong arms hug him close, and he parted his lips as they explored each other, both with tongues and slow, soft hands.

Grell pulled away after a long moment, needing air, and Undertaker hugged him close again. Grell laid his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes, breathing in his scent. He'd never really noticed before, but he had a sweet, musky smell, like that of a rose starting to decay. Grell found it pleasant and comforting.

"Grell?" Undertaker asked softly, stroking his hair once more.

"Hm?" Grell asked, snuggling against his shoulder, no longer feeling any doubts or insecurities about what Undertaker thought of him... or how he felt about Undertaker.

"Look at me."

Grell blinked at the strange request, then raised his head from his lover's shoulder, leaning back and looking into his face.

He found to his immense surprise that Undertaker had brushed his bangs aside. The rest of the long scar across his face showed, and it crossed the bridge of his nose and had, apparently, just barely missed his right eye, as it crossed over his eyelid and stopped about half an inch past the corner of his eye. His eyes were closed, and Grell bit his lip anxiously. What was he about to see?

Undertaker slowly slid his eyes open, and Grell was struck dumb by what he saw.

His eyes were not two-toned like the other Shinigami; not spring green ringed with mossy-green, almost yellow outsides. No, his were a very deep, vibrant emerald color, and in their depths, they glittered with the Undertaker's playful attitude, his hidden sadistic side, his honest nature, and, most notably, his silent wisdom. Those eyes reflected the knowledge of the ages; eyes that had seen great triumphs and great failures, war and bloodshed as well as peace and happiness; life and death, birth and decay. Grell felt himself utterly thunderstruck by those eyes, as it was like staring into Time itself.

Undertaker chuckled softly at Grell's startled silence, and his eyes danced with glee in such a way that made Grell's heart stutter. At the same time, he had the uncontrollable urge to destroy whoever had nearly taken out those gorgeous, entrancing eyes, and he reached up subconsciously and touched the scar that tracked across Undertaker's face, shivering as delighted fascination and primal rage mingled inside of him.

Undertaker reached up and laid a hand against Grell's, leaning his head into the touch of Grell's palm. He stared back into Grell's eyes and spoke softly, gently stroking Grell's hand as he did so.

"This is why I hide them, you know." He said, sounding a little amused, and Grell swallowed as a mischievous twinkle entered those eyes, making them dance. "Everyone always does that, you know? If people won't stop bowing now, I can't imagine what they'd do if they could see my eyes. Everyone gets all quiet like they're something amazing. I suppose you didn't get a good enough of a look when you first saw them, hm?"

"No..." He gulped. "I mean, they were pretty then, but now they are just... a-amazing..." Grell breathed, still helplessly transfixed. "It's like..."

"Time?" Undertaker finished simply, not surprised nor bothered. "Ah, that's what they all tell me. You see, it's a quality of someone who's connected with the Gods, and can go forth and speak with them with nothing more than a little brainpower. Very few are granted such a privilege. No Mortals can, and Lucifer and I are the only two in the Paranormal Realms who have the ability, besides the angels themselves, who are the direct messengers of the Gods. It's important that the Paranormal Realms each have at least one 'Wire' to the Gods, shall we say, in case directions need to be passed down, and simply to keep the Balance. I offered to turn William into a Wire once, but he declined. He said my eyes are troublesome because I can never hide anything, and I must say that I agree." He said with a chuckle. "And that, Grell, is why I want you to look at me when I say that I care about you, honestly and truly, and I want you to think carefully before you tell me what you think of me." He said, stroking Grell's cheek and continuing to hold him in place with those magnificent eyes. "It's not a decision I want you to make lightly, understand? If you hate me, say so. If you like me, I can remain to you as a friend or a sexual object. If you love me, _stay._ But, think it over first. We have time, and I want the most honest answer you can give me, not the first thing that comes into your head."

Grell nodded slowly. Undertaker's eyes were soft and kind and utterly lacking of any sort of deceit, and Grell trusted him immediately, as they shone with honesty and pure adoration. Undertaker was right; he had a snowball's chance in Hell of lying and getting away with it, because those eyes... those _eyes,_ were a language all their own.

"I understand." Grell said simply, lacing his arms around Undertaker's neck. "I'll think it over."

The truth was, he was pretty sure he knew his answer right then and there, but he was going to do as Undertaker asked, because he wanted him to take him seriously when he did tell him.

Grell gasped in pleasant surprise when Undertaker pressed their lips together, and he kissed him hungrily, running his hands through those soft, silky silver tresses and gently tangling his fingers in them. Undertaker wrapped his arms around Grell's waist and pulled him closer, overjoyed that Grell had come around and accepted him now.

They broke apart after several long, glorious moments. Grell sat back a bit, panting lightly, and he whimpered in quiet protest when Undertaker brushed his bangs back into place.

Undertaker chuckled and kissed his nose, and Grell squirmed happily.

"Behave, m'dear." He breathed. "I just explained why I don't flash them around, you know."

Grell crossed his arms, and Undertaker grinned in response to the light pouting. Grell tried to hold back his own grin, but he failed, and ducked his head as a wide smile broke his face.

"Undertaker?"

"Yes, m'dear?"

"...I think I'll go talk to Ronald." Grell said simply, looking back up at him. "I think we're both thinking about something similar, and maybe we could help each other out."

Undertaker smiled and chucked him under the chin. "Of course, m'dear."

Grell stood, kissing Undertaker's lips lightly, then walked to the door and slid his shoes back on. He glanced back at Undertaker questioningly, and Undertaker responded without even being asked.

"I'll be here."

Grell smiled at this, and Undertaker's warm smile matched his. Grell opened the bedroom door and left, exiting through the main door of his room and out into the Wing with a thrumming heart.

He really _did _care...

He ran out of the Wing, not caring if he was noisy, and darted up the stairs, feeling free as a bird. He was too light-headed to watch where he was going, and halfway up, he smacked into a certain black-and-blond haired Shinigami youth.

"Hey! Hey! What's the rush?" Ronald laughed from his place on the step, where he'd fallen back from impact. "I was looking for you, but _really _now..."

"Sorry!" Grell squealed, gripping Ronald's hand and pulling him back to his feet. "I was just looking for you, too! I-"

The midnight bell tolled, and Grell noticed that Ronald wasn't listening. His eyes were fixated on the wall far behind Grell, on the first floor, near the entrance doors. They were wide, horrified, and reflecting the glow of an opening portal.

A very large, very bright, very _ominous_ portal.

Grell turned, his own eyes widening as the single massive portal opened, and Hell itself stepped into the Library.

xxx

FLUFF AND CLIFFHANGAAAAR! 8D


	24. The First Death

"Oh _no." _Ronald breathed, going deathly pale, his bright eyes wide with fear. He gripped Grell's arm tightly, and they exchanged a panicked glance, knowing full-well what they had just stumbled into.

The entire wall was a bright blue, glowing portal, and demons were pouring out of it and pooling in the main room of the Library, mingling there and apparently waiting for someone, something, as they weren't immediately attacking. Grell felt his throat knot up with sheer terror; by the looks of it, they were outnumbered two or maybe even three to one, and not all of the demons had even gotten there yet...

Needless to say, it wasn't looking good from the start. Hell, the demons had even been "kind" enough to show up on the exact stroke of midnight, when many of the reapers were trying to get some sleep.

Everywhere below them, the place was filled with both the glow of the portal and the dimly glowing, pink-red eyes of the demons. As they entered, they all stared up at the two Shinigami, who were the only other living things in sight, and Grell felt his heart skip a beat when a ripple of laughter suddenly tore through the Library. Several jeering calls rang up, and the army spread out a bit, showing off their strength to the horrified death gods.

They were mocking them.

The two Shinigami whirled around as doors slammed behind them, and the officers poured out of the Higher Officer Wing, William at the lead. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, as he'd been too antsy to even lay down for longer than thirty seconds, as every bump in the night had been setting him off. Instead, he'd been watching and waiting, and his gait was calm and cold as he strolled out, his hand gripping his death scythe tightly. He wasn't messing around, and it showed in the fearless way he glared at the mob, his officers silently flanking him on either side.

This startled the demons, who murmured amongst themselves, thunderstruck that the Shinigami had come out so well prepared, that there were no screams of shock or confused murmurs of awakening reapers, coming out to see what the problem was. Many of them looked nervous and even scared, yes, but it wasn't the chaotic flurry of bumbling Shinigami that the demons had been expecting. The crowd of demons drew back a little, taken aback by the surprise.

Grell and Ronald looked over the railing of the stairs as more doors slammed below, and he bit his lip hard when Undertaker strode forward, the lower-officers in a large crowd behind him, keeping a respectful-if not wary-distance. The murmurs among the demons were louder now, and several of them stepped back when they saw the massive, curved blade of the death scythe in Undertaker's hand.

They had definitely not been expecting to arrive to _that._

The portal was now closing, slowly, but one more lone figure stepped out before it turned to a mere slit and disappeared. All of the demons went quiet immediately, and the crowd parted as the lead demon walked forward, a single officer breaking away from the ranks and joining his side, though he kept a respectful distance, as well.

The lead demon had copper-blond hair that was cut neatly, the straight locks gently following his scalp. It was trimmed to a sharp point at the nape of his neck, and his bangs swept across his forehead and framed his glowing red eyes. However, the eyes of _this _particular demon were not typical; they were a startling, _violent _ruby red, so brilliantly so that Grell wondered, briefly, if the man could have cried blood. They shown vividly, even from Grell's high perch on the stairs, and he felt himself shiver with fear without even having seen them up close. They were calm, and even though they were half-lidded with self-assured ease, they glowed so brightly that the eyes of the other demons seemed very dim indeed. He was dressed in plain white clothes that reminded Grell of the time he'd seen the rogue angel in the library, and a cocky smirk was painted on the demon's face.

Lucifer.

It could _only _be Lucifer.

Grell looked at the demon at Lucifer's side, and he felt his blood boil with pure fury when he recognized the one and only Resmodus. Resmodus, having arrived only just before Lucifer, hadn't seen him yet, but he was sure as _hell _going to taste Grell's blade. Grell would make sure of that, come Hell (twofold) or high water.

Lucifer strode through the horde of demons, and Resmodus stopped at the edge of the crowd, watching with his arms crossed and a tight, cocky smirk on his face. Undertaker stepped forward as well, and the other Shinigami stayed back without being told to do so, eying the demons across from them, and wondering when to move. No one gave a signal, however, and hardly anyone dared to breathe as they all watched the two Wires.

Grell glanced over as William moved down a few stairs, his eyes hard as he watched the proceedings below. Ronald scooted over to make room for the Head Shinigami, and William glanced at him, then stepped down a bit more and took his place between Ronald and Grell. Even under the current circumstances, Grell almost smiled when Ronald inconspicuously took William's hand and gave it a slight squeeze. William glanced at him with surprise-but no anger-in his eyes, and then quickly looked away again, though his hand remained entwined with Ronald's, as though he was grasping at a thread of Hope, and couldn't bear to break away. Grell looked away from them, then, not saying a word to acknowledge what he'd just seen.

He sincerely hoped that they'd be okay.

Lucifer and Undertaker met in the dead center of the Library, at the foot of the staircase, their armies at a stand-off from a safe distance away, providing a large, clear space on the clean, white tile of the floor for them to meet. Grell felt his heart start to hammer with worry, and, at that second, he was _very _tempted to rush down there and defend Undertaker with his life. He just _knew_ that something-besides the entire situation itself-wasn't right. Right now, the two almost looked as if they were having a friendly conversation, but Grell knew, just from the hateful glitter in Lucifer's eyes (undoubtedly the same as Undertaker's at that moment, though no one could tell), that the war could break loose in earnest at any second, and right now, if he made the slightest move to tip the scales in Undertaker's favor, he might set it off.

"Long time no see, Lucy." Undertaker said in a mock-pleasant voice, his usual grin in place as he leaned against his scythe casually, though that was just as sarcastic as his tone. "How've you been? Massacre any orphanages lately? A town here, a village there?"

"Two orphanages, one town, four villages, but only since the last time we saw each other." Lucifer said, without batting an eye. "And how many of the dead have you defiled since that time?"

"Unlike you, Lucifer, I don't need to stoop so low. I respect the dead; something you're _clearly_ incapable of."

Lucifer quirked an eyebrow and smirked back calmly, though his eyes flashed with unintelligible emotion.

"Really? And I guess that blade isn't overcompensation, either?"

"I can assure you it's not. Maybe I could show you sometime."

"Not likely." Lucifer chuckled; a sound that sent shivers up the backs of many Shinigami and demon, alike, as it was a sound that could only prelude immense pain and suffering. "I don't plan on letting you walk out of here again."

"How about we just cut to the chase then?" Undertaker said, with a dark chuckle that matched Lucifer's to a tea. Grell heard a soft, righteously angry growl emit from William. He glanced over, pleased to see that both William and Ronald were bristling just as he was, and that they were both glaring down at the demons with a hatred that was quite unlike them. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one having trouble holding back his anger, even if the situation was certainly not getting any better, and would _definitely _get worse if they jumped in.

"Why did you pay my Library such a lovely little visit?" Undertaker asked calmly, but Grell was pleased to hear danger in his voice that meant that he was getting close to his breaking point. "I'd really prefer if you'd call before you came over, Lucy. It's rude to barge in like this."

"Last I checked, this wasn't your Library. Not since the last time I dropped in. Haven't you been hiding in the back-streets of London for the last three centuries, and didn't you dump all the work on your yappy little pet? You're a bit of a sore loser, Grim." Lucifer scoffed lightly, looking at Undertaker as if he were same ridiculous, young child who was desperately in need of a good scolding.

"Now, now, I was never very fond of that name." Undertaker said, his smile slipping a little. "I'm not a grim person by nature, nor am I a coward. We both know for a damn fact that every time you stepped into the Mortal Realm, each of us, as God Links, knew where the other was instantly. I find it simply _hilarious _that you can sneak up behind my back and have the audacity call yourself a hero, but you can't meet me face-to-face like you actually have a pair unless you have an army of brainwashed buffoons behind you. _Then _you have the asinine idea that _you _have the right to call _me _a coward? You've had your tail between your legs this entire time, Lucy, and once again, the only way you can win is through ambush and manipulation. You're _pathetic,_ with or without your army."

A furious hiss went through the demon ranks, and Grell saw Resmodus take a step forward, his body language giving away his murderous intentions. Lucifer's smile slipped away, and he held up a silencing hand as a furious sneer took its place, causing the ranks to go quiet instantly. He was looking _very _displeased, now, but he replaced his cold smirk within a moment, though his eyes were filled with twice the hatred.

"In that case, Grim, why didn't you ever come and meet me? If you're so self-confident, why didn't you leave everything in the care of your lackey and just come and hunt me down, hm? Didn't you want revenge for your precious Claudia? Or were you just not enough of a man to face your fears, and chose to sulk and nurse your wounds, instead?"

William snarled, audibly enough for some of the demons to look up at him, and Grell felt his fists clenching without his intention of doing so. Ronald swore under his breath, his voice a vicious snarl, and for once, William didn't reprimand him. Below them, Undertaker became very, very tense, and stood up straight, his voice a menacing, terrifying _hiss _that made Grell shiver from head to toe.

"You don't have a _single, goddamn _right in all the _Realms _to even _think _about her, Lucifer, much less utter her name from your_ rancid fucking mouth. _Now, answer my question; _why are you here, you worthless waste of space?"_

"Ah, yes." Resmodus said easily, glancing back at his horde, his eyes dancing with amusement at Undertaker's first, true show of anger. "A book. Now."

From the crowd, one of the millions of books was pulled from the shelves and thrown into the air, pages rustling as it flew. Lucifer reached up and caught it without even looking or offering any acknowledgement, then opened the book and began flipping through it. Undertaker watched him carefully, and William shifted uneasily to Grell's right, now worried not only for his people, but his life's work.

"You should very well know that all these books are comprised of souls. and demons eat souls." Lucifer said, still flipping through the pages. "I think you may know where I'm going with this, Grim."

"Eating books is one helluva to get your fiber, you know." Undertaker retorted sarcastically. Lucifer's gentle, eerie chuckle rang out, and his horde joined him with quiet laughter of their own. "Besides, in case you didn't realize, destroying the books-as well as destroying all of _us_-will only cause the World itself to come to an end. Are you planning some bizarre, overly-complex suicide ritual? Because I think the rest of us want out."

"Not quite, Grim." Lucifer said, smirking coldly. "You see, the big plan here is to drain the books of text by removing the Cinematic Records, and the souls bound up within the covers themselves." He said, raising the book and pressing it to his lips. The book glowed a violent red, and Lucifer closed his eyes as he absorbed the soul, letting out a low, long breath as he did so. The glow brightened, then died in an abrupt flash, the cover dimming before their eyes to be an even darker, dead-looking brown, before falling to pieces in his hand, the blank, newly-rotted pages and the disintegrated bindings alike falling to the floor before Lucifer's feet.

William shifted again, and Ronald swore, louder this time, his hand gripping the banister so hard that he thought it would break, the other growing uncomfortably tight around William's own. Grell was gnawing on his lip, not noticing how badly he was chewing it up, and, frankly, not really caring, even when his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

Lucifer's smile was downright disturbing as he casually nudged the ruined book with one toe, before looking up at his adversary once more.

"Then, I'll use that nifty little Bookmark of yours to stop time, _just _before the world ends." Lucifer said, unceremoniously kicking the mess aside. "And then we use the Pen to write what follows in a certain book that I'm _quite _sure you know about. I'll easily be able to control what happens from then on, and _you, _and your _entire_ kind will be utterly obsolete."

"That's the most foolish thing I've ever heard." Undertaker said lowly, his foot tapping the floor steadily, as he was very rapidly running out of patience. "It's got a snowball's chance in Hell of working, and you're an even bigger fool than I thought.

"Why? Because there won't be reapers around, and the Balance won't be kept? On the contrary. Should it turn out that we do need some reapers hanging about, we'll simply edit the Book and enslave a few of you, hm? Then, we'll live as we please, with as many souls as we'd like and absolutely no competition. Truly, it'll be a _perfect _world, don't you agree?"

Undertaker barked a laugh, scythe still in hand as he cocked his head, wagging a finger mockingly at Lucifer. "You know, that's not what I was going to say, but it's still pretty damn stupid. Where'd you get _your _definition of balance, Lucy? That's not the equality the Gods wanted. They'll take you out if your own idiocy doesn't."

Lucifer didn't bat an eye. "What, pray tell, where you going to say?"

Undertaker grinned dangerously at him, his smile almost as shark-like as Grell's. "I was going to say that your idea is fucking foolish because you're going to have to pry the Bookmark and the Pen from my cold, dead hands."

Lucifer matched his grin, and Undertaker's mind started slipping away as the urge to _fight _rose in him, overriding and possessing all else.

"That was the point, Grim. As I said, you're not walking out of here. Nor he," Lucifer said, nodding up at William. "Or he." He said, locking eyes with Grell, who bared his teeth in response. "Or the bastards who ratted us out, and yes, I know we were betrayed. That's the only explanation for all of this."

From deep in the crowd, Sebastian's eyes widened, as he knew what was coming, and he snatched Ciel up and leapt to the top of a bookcase, leaping from one to the other until he'd landed on the Shinigami side of the Library. William glanced at him, seeming to approve, if only marginally, and Sebastian smiled coldly in return, setting Ciel down toward the back of the crowd and standing in front of him protectively. No one had made a move to stop him, and Lucifer barely even blinked.

"Ah, yes, the midget and his slave. No one is surprised. You two will die last, and most painfully." He said, his voice monotone, though his eyes seemed to hold Death itself. Sebastian narrowed his eyes, reaching into his vest and pulling out his ever-trusty silverware, accepting the challenge without a word. "However, I'm giving the rest of you the opportunity to surrender, because I'm a nice guy like that. You Shinigami can come with us and do what you're doing now, and get the same treatment you get from your slavedriver William, or you can die like dogs and become only _slightly _more worthless than you are now."

_"FUCK YOU!"_ Ronald snapped suddenly, with such ferocious intensity that he nearly screeched it. He released William's hand and stepped down, standing in front of William and Grell protectively, his fists clenched so hard, it hurt. "William's better than you could _ever _even _hope _to be, you worthless piece of scum, and don't _ever _make the mistake of thinking otherwise! We'll die by his side with two things you'll never _hope _to have; love and honor! Unlike you, we'll go down fighting beisde a leader we _respect, _not _fear,_, because that's the oath we took as Shinigami!"

The Shinigami crowd roared with agreement, and William blinked with utter astonishment, shocked at the sudden show of support that was all around him. He stared down at the feisty little Ronald, his eyes wide with disbelief, and Ronald looked back at him with a tight yet reassuring smile.

_Yes, I meant that, William... _His eyes said.

And William believed them.

"Resmodus." Lucifer said lowly, his voice just barely audible over the jeers of the crowd, and his smirk back upon his face. He'd been expecting something like that, and he wasn't deterred in the least.

On the contrary; now the fun could begin.

Resmodus darted forward, grabbing an unfortunate Shinigami girl who had been standing just a little too close by her long, blue-haired ponytail and yanking her back violently, sending her sprawling into Lucifer's arms. Undertaker let out a furious snarl and swung his scythe at Resmodus, another hiss of outrage emitting from the crowds when a few drops of blood spattered the ground, pouring from a gash Resmodus' arm, which was still clutched firmly around the girl.

Neither Lucifer nor Resmodus seemed to care about the minor injury, however, and the Shinigami crowd immediately sank into horrified silence as Lucifer grabbed her from Resmodus and wrapped an almost affectionate arm around his captive's neck, the other around her waist, keeping her firmly in place.

"Ah, she's a pretty one..." Lucifer purred, stroking the horrified girl's cheek and smirking at Undertaker threateningly over her shoulder, daring him to make a move. Undertaker met the girl's wild-eyed stare, and he felt his fury mount to a degree that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. "I'd hate to have to kill her." He said, so sarcastically that Undertaker thought his teeth might crack from being clenched so hard.

He yanked back her head roughly by her ponytail once more, holding it in place this time, and his monstrous, pink-red eyes bored into hers, the pupils retracting into slits as a devilish grin split his face.

The girl, Laura, now knew what it was like to stare death in the face.

"Are you sure you want to stay with them, lovely? Don't you want to come and work for me, hm?"

Laura's frightened eyes widened, and she flicked them upwards, scanning the crowd of friends that were like family across from her, looking apologetic for what she knew was going to happen next. Her eyes brimmed with tears, then overflowed, and she stared back at the demon fearlessly, even as the liquid swept silently down her face.

"Never."

"Well, then," Lucifer said icily, looking up and locking eyes with Undertaker. "She'll die just like yours; by her own scythe.

"Goodnight, bitch."

Undertaker's furious shout was drowned out by the girl's scream of pain and horror as Lucifer wrenched her scythe-what appeared the be a pizza cutter-from her belt and ripped it across her throat. Blood instantly poured forth in a massive wave and burbled from her mouth, and he tossed the writhing girl aside like a ragdoll, dodging aside as Undertaker's screech of fury echoed off the walls, and his blade nearly split the demon in two.

Just the reaction he'd wanted.

A hair-raising grin crossed his face as Undertaker reeled back for another attack, all of the congenial Shinigami facade he always had up melting away.

Chaos reigned as the two armies finally clashed together, and all-out _war _ensued.

The battle had begun.

xxx

I hope I did you OC justice, Eevee Tofu. XD R.I.P. Laura, she died like a fucking boss.

And this cliffhanger was vicious, I know. But the next chapter is one of the best parts of the story, I think. Can't wait to work on it!


	25. The Scythe and the Rose

Sorry for not updating guys, but the chaos of the holidays caught up with me. D8 Between Thanksgiving and Black Friday, I haven't had nearly as much time as I would have liked to work on this. But Happy Holidays to all who celebrate. :) I hope you had fun!

xxx

The two sides met with the clashing of metal, the cries of the wounded and dying, and bright red of oceans of blood spattering onto the snow-white of the Library tile.

Undertaker and Lucifer were whirling in a glorious, violent Dance of Death. Undertaker's scythe crashed repeatedly with a stolen, sword-like death scythe that Lucifer had managed to get his hands on mere moments after killing Laura. Sparks flew every now and again as the two equally-matched opponents struggled to gain the upper hand, their blades only managing to make contact with each other every so often, and never with the flesh of the opponent.

Lucifer's smirk had vanished into a deep scowl of concentration and frustration, and Undertaker's furious sneer had only grown darker as the battle raged on. He slashed the air about Lucifer's head again, blade flashing brightly, and Lucifer blocked the blow with a quick raise his sword, locking the blades together. They both pushed back roughly against each other, each trying to overbalance the other in order to deliver a fatal blow, or any blow at all. Undertaker grit his teeth, snarling in agitation as his boots began to slip slightly as Lucifer continued to press forward. Lucifer's hand was gripping the blade of the commandeered scythe, holding the sword sideways in order to aid in holding Undertaker back, and it began to split open and leak blood down the length of the blade and to the floor as Undertaker pressed back harder than ever, desperate to keep himself upright. Undertaker set his boots into the slick tile as best he could, but he knew Lucifer was at an advantage as the tile began to crack with the force of his heels digging in.

Finally, knowing he had a high chance of being injured with the next move, he pulled his scythe away and dodged to the side, his cloak flaring out like the cape of a Matador behind him. Luck seemed to be on his side, as Lucifer stumbled forward and missed him by inches when he swung downwards at his face, shearing a piece of the cloak away instead. Undertaker slashed at Lucifer's back, and a maddened, hair-raising cackle of delight left him when Lucifer fell forward, blood spewing from the massive wound that now mapped down his body, from his right shoulder to nearly a foot below his left kidney.

His Cinematic Record fluttered into the air immediately, and Undertaker reeled back to swing and end the life of his mortal enemy, once and for all. However, Lucifer's Cinematic Record was incredibly short, and Undertaker, out of practice as he was, was too slow, and his blade sliced thin air as the reel of film disappeared again, having lasted no longer than a second and a half.

Lucifer rolled to his feet, dodging aside when Undertaker swung again, lengthwise now, his scythe whistling through the air and making a small cut on Lucifer's cheek. Furious at being bested twice, Lucifer whipped his sword down, a grimace of pain and malice on his face, and a small cry of alarm emitted from Undertaker as blood began to flow heavily and rapidly from his face. His old stitches had been cut open, and his bangs had been sheared away, revealing his enraged, emerald eyes for all the World to see. Lucifer smirked at the way they flashed at him, showing nothing but sheer and honest _hatred _as the blood fought to flow down and blind Undertaker's right eye.

He was blinking the blood from his eye as best he could now, hissing and trying to keep Lucifer in his sight, despite the crimson film obscuring his vision. Lucifer grinned in triumph, taking advantage of the hindrance and stabbing forward at Undertaker's chest.

Undertaker swept the sword aside with his scythe, the blade ringing with impact, and Lucifer leapt to a bookcase, Undertaker hot on his heels. The two launched themselves from opposing bookcases and met again in mid-air, and the deafening clash of their blades rang throughout the Library as they continued to fight viciously, trying their damnedest to destroy each other.

Grell glanced up at the loud noise as he cut down two demons with a swing of his scythe. William, who was playing sniper from his position on the second floor, extended his death scythe and cut both film reels with one movement as he saw them rise into the air. The demons fell to the floor, writhing as they gasped desperately for their last breaths, they nails clawing at the cold tile. Massive wounds from the chainsaw streaked across their bodies and opened and closed sickeningly as they moved, crimson blood pouring forth like water as the wounds surged and receded with the demons' agonized writhing. Finally, as Grell's merciless eyes glared down at them, they went still, looks of horrified pain imprinted on their faces for the rest of Eternity.

Grell turned hurried on through the crowd, slashing blindly at demons as he went, not bothering to make sure the inflicted wounds were fatal. He only had one target, and that was the only demon he was going to make sure he thoroughly trashed. The rest were meaningless and could be dealt with later.

A sudden, violent blow struck Grell from the back, and he fell forward with the impact, just barely managing to avoid landing on his own scythe and killing himself instantly. Instead, he rolled as he realized he was going down, and the scythe lurched to a stop when it hit the ground, and skittered several feet away, completely out of his reach.

Grell rolled over and sat up, trying to get to his feet as a wickedly grinning Resmodus towered over him. Grell, his back now sporting four deep gashes and pouring blood, stumbled and fell back down, then struggled again to get his heeled-feet beneath him, teeth bared as the demon began to speak.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little red reaper!" Resmodus said mockingly, retracting his massive, black, cat-like claws back into his hands and smirking at Grell's horrified, fascinated staring. "What's the matter? Needed an army at your back before you could come and fight me again? You sure as _hell _wouldn't try without them behind you, just like that _worthless _Undertaker." He said, licking Grell's blood from his fingers in a way that further reminded Grell of a big cat, like a lion or a tiger, after a hunt. "I'll have fun ripping you apart for _ever _daring to resist me, little reaper. I'll make you beg for death."

"You'll die like the roach you are." Grell growled back darkly, struggling to his feet at last. "You couldn't even finish the job the first time! I'm hardly scared of an overgrown housecat like you!"

Resmodus' eyes narrowed, and Grell watched as those claws slid forward again, revealing themselves from the fleshy sheath of skin where his fingernails should have been. Grell realized then, with a jolt of shock, that those massive, terrifying claws _were _his fingernails, as they were the same jet-black color as the other demons'.

Only much, _much _deadlier.

Grell gasped and twisted his body to the side, Resmodus' lightning-fast strike sweeping by his face and scratching the lens of his glasses, opening a wound across his face in the same motion. Grell, furious, lunged forward and bit down savagely on his outstretched arm, smirking with pleasure as he felt his teeth cut muscle and scrape bone, and hot blood burst into his mouth.

Resmodus smirked coldly back at him, his eyes glinting lethally, and Grell realized too late that it was a trap. As Resmodus' free hand slammed down into his back, Grell felt those claws, those _claws, _sink in like sickles, and he felt as those he'd had a bed of nails shoved down on him. Grell released his grip on Resmodus, screaming in agony as he raked those horrid claws up Grell's back roughly, again and again with hands that were faster than Grell could have imagined possible. Blood spattered the ground wetly, and Grell was sure he was going to die when Resmodus bared his fangs and lunged straight for his face.

"Grell, _duck!"_

Grell heard the strong voice of William just in time, and he did as he was told, gasping as William's death scythe whipped by just over his head, slamming into Resmodus' upper chest and knocking him back, forcing him to loosen his grip on Grell. Grell wrenched away from Resmodus, who was now writhing helplessly on the bloodied pole of William's scythe, the blades protruding from his back and shining wetly with fresh, red blood. William recoiled his scythe with a series of loud snaps, and Resmodus' Cinematic Film exploded into the air, snapping and twining around itself as it replayed his short life as a human. Grell dived for his scythe once again, sweeping it up and cutting it on, swinging at the film a half-second too late. Grell shouted a curse in fury as the film disappeared just as his scythe cut the air, and Resmodus looked sharply up at William, clutching at his bloodied chest as rage filled his eyes.

Resmodus coiled his legs and leapt onto the second floor, where William had been crouched behind the railing of the balconies, sniping the demons by cutting any and all of the Cinematic Films that he saw. It was the only way he could have been very effective with his scythe, as, by itself, it was next to useless for committing the necessary two-hit combo that could kill a demon, but it was excellent in aiding the others. William, caught off guard by the fact that the demon was still alive, received the vicious kick Resmodus aimed at his face full force, and went flying, slamming into the ground and rolling like a ball. His death scythe did something very rare; it fell from his hand and clattered to the ground, out of his reach, something that hadn't happened in years.

Grell leapt after Resmodus, but a second, well-aimed kick knocked him from the railing as he reached them, and he fell back, slamming savagely onto the floor a story below. Too stunned to get back up, William was left to defend himself as Grell struggled to see straight through the pain of landing on his fresh wounds.

William rolled and scrambled to get his feet under him, but a second kick slammed into the center of his chest and lifted him from the ground again, and he fell back, gasping for air as he felt his ribs crack, and pain exploded throughout his chest. A heavy, booted foot pressed down painfully on his now-injured torso, doubling the pain, and as he saw his own scythe glinting in the air above his head, his heart began to slam with panic. He heard the click of the handle being gripped, and his eyes widened as he realized that Resmodus was about to land a fatal blow to his head with the simple pull of a trigger. His _own_ trigger.

He heard the roar of an engine, and he expected to see a whirl of red and the bright white glinting teeth of Grell. However, he was surprised to see lithe little Ronald swinging his heavy, over-sized death scythe with ease at Resmodus, the scythe cocked and the blade pointed toward the demon. Resmodus, caught off guard, screeched in furious surprise as the blade ripped into his side, and William flinched as blood spattered across his face and the demon went flying, William's scythe flung harmlessly from his hand.

Ronald abandoned the stunned demon and set his scythe down, killing the engine and choosing to ignore the snapping reel for the few seconds it lasted. William saw the white leather of Ronald's Oxford shoe by his face, and he held up a hand instinctively, his breath slowly coming back into his lungs. Ronald gripped it and pulled him to his feet easily, and William stood, staring down at the shorter Shinigami with some bewilderment. For such a Shinigami his size, he was surprisingly strong, and William wondered how someone who was three-nearly four-inches shorter than he could possibly wield that scythe so well.

"Don't do that." Ronald said, relief and fear mingling in his voice as he released William's hand. He shook his head slightly, bending and grabbing William's death scythe, handing it to him with a weak smile. "You need to watch your back, or else-"

_"Ronald!"_

William's cry came too late, as he had only now noticed the demon raising up behind his companion. Ronald whipped around just as a heavy metal bar swung through the air and smashed into the side of his head, sending him bouncing across the tile, streaks of blood adorning the floor as he went. He slammed into the wall and came to a violent stop, a pool of blood rapidly forming around his head as he crumbled down like a sheet of paper. He made no other move, his arm flung out limply toward William as he lay still, almost as though it were a silent plea for help. A raging, violent anger flowed white-hot through William's veins, and he glared murderously at Resmodus, gripping his scythe so hard his knuckles went white beneath his gloves.

Resmodus swung at William, and William brought his scythe up, stopping the blow just in time to avoid suffering the same fate as Ronald. The ring of metal-on-metal sang in the air, and both the rod and the scythe went flying over the railing and to the floor below, knocked away by the sheer momentum of meeting so hard and so fast. William brought up his hands and took a stance immediately, grabbing Resmodus' fist as it moved for his face. He rotated his hand sharply, a small smirk of satisfaction crossing his face as Resmodus' wrist gave a loud _crack, _and the demon shouted in pain and went to one knee. With William now twisting his entire arm the wrong way, Resmodus crouched helplessly as William kicked him in the jaw and knocked him aside, his head hitting the floor with another loud _crack!_ William moved in again, too furious to care that he didn't have his scythe, eager to vent his frustrations on the mongrel who had so much part in what was going on. He grabbed Resmodus' shirt and hauled him to his feet, drawing back his fist and landing another brutal strike on his face that sent the demon staggering back like a drunkard, clutching at what looked like a newly-broken nose.

William saw red from the corner of his eye, and Grell's scythe roared through the air, his mad snarl of anger accompanying it. Resmodus whirled, just managing to catch the moving blade between his hands and stop it a few inches short of his face. Grell tried to force it forward, but Resmodus struggled to wrench it back and bury it in Grell's own face, resulting in another power-struggle between demon and Shinigami. William took the opportunity and kicked his leg in a high arc, his shoe slamming into the back of Resmodus' head. Resmodus screamed in pain as his forehead glanced the top of the blade and split open, blood spurting down the length of the chainsaw. Grell let out a hair-raising cackle of joy, thrusting the chainsaw forward as he gained the upper-hand. Resmodus jerked back to avoid further damage, blinded by blood and snarling with fury, but still very much alive. William gasped in shock and pure, unbridled agony as Resmodus whirled and thudded his claws deep into his chest. Blood immediately began pouring forth and staining his white dress shirt as the massive talons grated against his already-damaged ribs, literally making him scream with torment. He stumbled back with a shuddering gasp, gripping Resmodus' wrist tightly and wrenching the claws out and away, letting out another small cry of pain as he did so. Resmodus, grinning like a madman lunged forward again, bloodied claws flashing in the light as he moved for William's throat. William, clutching his chest and wheezing, managed to duck away and give him an adrenaline-fueled crane-kick to the stomach, sending Resmodus rolling down the long flight of stairs to his right.

Grell ran after him as William fell to his knees and struggled to see straight and continued the duel as an enraged Resmodus staggered to his feet. William, fighting through the worst physical pain up to this point in his life, was just struggling to his feet, and he stumbled down the stairs and picked up his scythe, which was laying just to the left of the stairwell. He looked up sharply when he heard a certain young demon scream in pain and terror, and another, older, familiar voice call out _"Young Master!"_

Ciel flew threw the air, appearing to come from out of nowhere, and slammed, _hard,_ into the second floor wall. The wall spiderwebbing with cracks, Ciel gasped in agony and clenched his teeth as the recoil jolted his spine like a gunshot.

Sebastian was dueling five or six other demons alone on the floor below, and Ciel had been snatched from his protection and flung aside by one of the larger demons as he tried to aid his butler. Sebastian was not doing well at all; in fact, he was covered in deep wounds and absolutely soaked with blood, and he was in serious need of help as the demons mobbed him, fighting to wrench him from his feet and tear him limb-from-limb. He'd long since forgone his weapons, and was now, literally, fighting tooth-and-nail with his kinsmen-turned-enemies in such a primal state that normally would have embarrassed him, but was now absolutely necessary for survival.

Ciel seemed to peel off of the wall and crumble in a heap at the bottom, unmoving, and Sebastian began to battle twice as violently, desperate to get to Ciel, though it was obvious that he was exhausted, overexerted, and close to falling victim to the other demons. Blood loss had weakened him severely, and for every hit he dealt, every fang he sank into an enemy, he took five times as many hits or blows. Though he was One Hell of a Butler, he could only take so much, especially from those of his own kind, who were on an equal level in both skill and ferocity. He'd just about reached his limit, and now, he was not only badly outnumbered, but separated from his young lord, who he'd sworn to protect at all costs.

William glowered at the group of demons from his position at the bottom of the stairs, indecision wracking his body. On one hand, he _hated _them all, regardless of who they were, and he really just wished they'd all kill each other off for good. On the other hand, however, he _did _owe Ciel and Sebastian, if only minimally, and he was a man of his word, and he _did _know that all debts must be repaid. Finally, ignoring the agony winding through his ribcage as best he could, he gripped the trigger of the scythe, shooting it at the group and carefully aiming around Sebastian. Three demons, caught totally off guard, were impaled at once; one through his head, another through her shoulder (and most likely through her heart, as well), and the last through his back. Though they were not killing wounds, as William's scythe was too slow for dealing the second blow, they would most certainly impede the demons in battle, should they be able to get up again at all.

Sebastian, now only up against two, was managing far better than he had before, but his fighting had become too weak for him to rid himself of them fairly easily, as he normally would have. William retracted his scythe, but before he could deal with the other two, other Shinigami moved in to aid the demonic ally, evening the odds. Sebastian broke away, then, when it was clear that the reapers had it under control, and, with great difficulty, he jumped to the second floor, leaving a clear trail of blood behind him.

Ciel, though currently immobile, was somehow still conscious. His entire back was very badly bruised, and he was bleeding from a deep cut on his cheek, but he finally managed to pick himself up just as Sebastian landed before him and sank into an exhausted crouch. Sebastian's breathing came in short, ragged gasps that sounded like they were ripping his throat apart, and Ciel stared at him helplessly as the blood pooling in Sebastian's throat and lungs began to make his breathing twice as hard, adding a sickening gurgle to the sound.

"Sebastian!" He gasped, thunderstruck by his butler's ruined condition. Sebastian gave him a weak smirk, blood dripping heavily from his mouth and his eyes flashing pink-red, and then, as William watched, he fell into an unconscious heap before Ciel, his body too damaged to even hope to continue. Ciel let out a low cry of shock, kneeling by Sebastian's side, and William, unable to continue watching, turned away, moving to help his own men. Ciel was on his own, and as much as it distressed him, he had to leave Ronald alone with the insufferable young demon and his passed-out rat. Ronald and the two demon allies were the only ones on the second floor, and Ronald, like Ciel and Sebastian was completely unnoticeable from the first floor, unless one came up the stairs. He was safer without William calling attention to him, as William was going to keep a close eye on the stairs, and he would kill the young demon personally should he even _dare _to touch the blond.

Rushing off to aid an officer backed against the wall by two demons, William didn't notice when the same demon who had thrown Ciel leapt to the railing of the balcony above. Ciel hurtled to his feet and hissed violently at her, baring his claws and fangs as his eyes began to glow. Still he was extremely frightened and vulnerable, and the she-demon knew it, judging by the mocking sneer on her face. She leapt forward, and Ciel's small body jumped away as he tried to lure her away from both Sebastian and Ronald, his body sliding across the tile as he struck the ground. He stood again, quickly, as she kicked him viciously in the stomach and sent him flying back against the wall. Ciel crumpled for the second time, letting out a low mewl of pain as his aching back seemed to scream with pain, and she approached him once more, her fangs bared in sadistic joy as she prepared to punish him for his treason. Ciel gasped and struggled to his feet, his eyepatch falling away as he moved. Despite Sebastian's close proximity, the Seal did not come alight, as Sebastian was unconscious and unable to help him in the slightest.

Ciel moved aside as she lunged forward, her fist slamming into the wall where his head had been, splintering the marble like it was nothing more than a board of wood. Ciel, acting on instinct, gripped her sides, digging in his claws and biting deep into her flesh, feeling satisfaction rise in his throat as she screamed and twisted, raking her claws across his face, twice, in rapid succession. Ciel whimpered in pain, but raked his own claws across her stomach as fast and hard as he could, still clinging to her with the savage bite he'd inflicted. Screeching, the she-demon rammed the boy against the railing of the balcony, and Ciel continued to brutalize her flesh as best he could, desperate to save himself. His claws raked deep into her abdomen a final time, and there was a sickening sound that reminded him of ten pounds of cottage cheese slopping against the floor. The she-demon howled in agony, and Ciel finally let go and shoved her, sending her toppling over the railing and smacking into the floor below, where she remained, unmoving. Breathing heavily and holding his cheek to try and stem the flow of blood from the massive scratches there, he felt bile rise in his throat as he saw the results of disemboweling her lying before him on the floor. He turned away and hurried back to Sebastian, feeling both pride and disgust at his actions and the mess they'd made.

The battle below had grown even worse, though; fewer and fewer Shinigami and demons alike were on their feet and fighting with every minute that passed. Blood, the dead, and the injured were everywhere, and those still standing had to fight around them, or risk falling and losing their own lives. William saw a bookcase falling from the corner of his eye, and he broke into a run, just being missed as it crashed down where he had been a second before. Books spilled everywhere, and several other bookcases fell as the domino-effect from the first sent them into motion. William felt fury rise in his throat as his Life's work fell about him, and he did his best to dodge it as he fled, wincing as a stray book smacked him in the head, right where it was sorest, and then fluttered away.

William, hindered by his aching ribs and the tearing pain throughout his body, knew that he couldn't outrun the avalanche of heavy wooden bookcases. Seeing no other solution, he knew he had no other choice but to suck up the pain and dive away, and he did just that as the last shadow of a bookshelf grew closer, before a final bookcase fell just short of his ankles. He nearly screamed again as the pain in his chest tripled, to the point where he was momentarily blinded with agony, and an absolutely sickening sense of deja vu. He rolled to his feet as soon as he could manage, and moved to a position near to the left of the staircase, drawing back against the wall behind him and sniping several more film reels as he did. As he watched the proceedings before him, he was pleasantly surprised to find that most of those still on their feet were Shinigami. The training had served them well, and they were certainly putting it to use, as several more demons (who had apparently been relying on the ambush itself to succeed, as they seemed to have forgone all training in favor of surprise and brute force without any real skill) fell as he watched. He snipped their fluttering reels as he saw them, and he was completely caught off guard when massive, wicked black claws ripped down into his shoulder and sent him rolling once again, a savage voice snarling "That's a cowardly way to fight, reaper!" as he went.

William somehow managed to lose his precious scythe once again, which was a new (and very much unwanted) record for him, and he slammed into the corner, blood dotting the wall like cheap red paint. He gripped his shoulder, which was cut to the bone and spurting blood, and glared at the approaching Resmodus, his head swimming with pain as he struggled to get past the absolute _avalanche_ of pain in his chest, and get to his feet.

Grell was on the floor behind Resmodus, the leg of his pants ripped clean off, leg mutilated and pouring blood across the tile. His teeth were bared in a grimace of pain and fury, and he was trying his hardest to crawl toward them, his arms faltering under both his own weight, and the death scythe still clutched in his hand. William gave him a warning look to stay back, but it was wasted, as Resmodus suddenly gripped him around the throat and picked him up with horrifying ease, causing William to choke and thrash weakly as he clawed at Resmodus' hand.

"I don't like cowards." Resmodus hissed, squeezing William's throat and grinning wickedly when William coughed and gasped for air, a few tendrils of blood flowing down his neck from the way Resmodus' claws were slicing into the pale skin.

"Oh, the irony." William retorted breathlessly, managing to smirk at Resmodus fearlessly, though his heart was slamming with fear. Resmodus narrowed his eyes, angered by the taunt, and William grit his teeth as he was thrown down again, with a force that must have been akin to a freight train. He went bouncing violently across the floor, all the wind knocked from his body, and blood spattering after him as he went. He felt his knee slam into the ground, taking his full weight, with a force he didn't know was possible, and heard it crack like a gunshot. Hot, wet blood immediately flowed down his leg, and William wondered dimly what injury he had sustained, as it was hard to think of anything with his entire body seeming to explode with pure _agony, _as though every single nerve had been submerged in acid.

William, stunned, finally skittered to a stop, his leg jarring painfully as the momentum caused him to roll over onto his back. Knowing he was probably going to die then and there (and, dimly, wondering how he still had his glasses) he just managed to focus his eyes on the approaching demon. He propped himself up on his elbows and struggled to get on his feet yet again, but his leg gave out beneath him as a _huge _bolt of pain, somehow even worse than the ringing torment in his chest, raced up his body like a demented horse. He looked down, and was absolutely horrified to see that he'd broken it, and not only had he broken it, but the bone, _the bone,_ was protruding out a good six inches from the skin of his knee. A massive wave of pain, terror, and nausea hit him, and he swayed, closing his eyes and doing his best not to go down and slam his head into the tile again. Having second thoughts about leaving his line of sight unguarded, however, he forced himself to open his eyes, and took one last look over the raging battle.

He saw, to his immense pleasure and complete shock, the last demon, besides Resmodus and Lucifer, fall.

_We're within inches of victory... _William's mind raced as Resmodus loomed over him, a dark chuckle seeming to rise up from the demon's very core as he saw the intensity of the blood-drenched Shinigami's injury. _This isn't for nothing. I can die knowing this. I don't regret it quite so much anymore..._

He closed his eyes again, accepting his impending demise without a word as Resmodus' cruel hand gripped his throat once more, the vicious claws digging into the sides of his neck and opening new wounds while deepening others. He took a deep breath, feeling his body leave the floor, and prepared to die, grateful that his legacy would live on in the form of his Shinigami creations.

He let out a small scream of torment and immense surprise, however, when he felt himself fall a short distance before landing on his ruined leg, the cold floor rushing up to meet him and providing another massive dose of liquid fire for every last cell in his body. He could hear the roaring of Grell's chainsaw, and Resmodus' scream of shock and agony as he was cut down, blood spattering everyone in the vicinity, including William.

Grell, by some miracle, had struggled to his feet and snuck up behind Resmodus when he'd seen William in danger. Having the sense to leave the chainsaw off until he was within striking distance, he'd fooled even the sharp-eared William, and Resmodus paid the full price. Resmodus, caught off guard and shaking with pain, was now laying in the fetal position in a pool of dark red blood, his eyes wide in terror as he pieced together what had just happened... and what was going to happen next.

Grell raised his scythe to finish him off, the engine screaming in an insane way that matched Grell's sadistic, demented cackling. But just then, a cry of joy went up among the still-standing Shinigami, and Grell whipped around in surprise, lowering the blade in surprise and cutting it off as he turned his back on Resmodus to see what had caused the commotion.

Undertaker and Lucifer, who had been concentrating on each other for the length of the entire battle, were now facing off for the last time, on the last two standing bookcases, nonetheless. They were both covered in blood and gruesome wounds; the bone of Undertaker's jaw, revealed from the first hit he'd taken, shone wetly in the light, and his face was covered in blood, his vibrant green eyes burning with fury as he swiped it away on his already blood-soaked cloak and panted for air. Lucifer was tightly clutching his left arm, which had been cut off just below the elbow, and was now cascading blood, stray strands of tissue dangling from the mutilated limb. This had been the cause of the cheer from the observing Shinigami, as Undertaker now, quite literally, had the upper hand.

The hall went silent as everyone, both immobile demons and Shinigami, the still-standing Shinigami and the single, frightened young demon on the second floor and the now-rousing Sebastian all stopped to watch. No one made a move to help, as one thing was expressly clear to everyone; the only ones allowed to kill either of the two was the other, and no one else was to get involved without sheer, harsh consequence; namely, death.

All that could be heard for several seconds was the heavy breathing of the two God-links, and the gentle dripping of blood from their many wounds.

_"You.." _Lucifer finally hissed, baring his fangs and gulping as though to swallow his pain. "You will die by her blade."

Undertaker blinked, those brilliant green eyes flashing dangerously as he realized what this meant. His facial wound pulled and revealed even more bone as he snarled with somehow even greater fury than before, and blood spattered down his cloak as the ghastly sight was taken in by everyone.

"...You took her second scythe. You... You _unspeakable..."_

Lucifer began to chuckle, and it was the sound of a madman who was completely cracked in the head. The chuckle rose in volume, becoming a devilish laugh, then a cackle, then a shriek of insane, unbridled joy. His still-intact arm let go of his now-useless stump, and reached into his belt. He pulled forth a small throwing knife, previously hidden in a thick leather sheath, and Undertaker hissed in such pure, unbridled outrage that he sounded as though he was going to tear everyone within a hundred miles apart, bare-handed.

The knife was ivory-handled, beautifully carved with intricate, flower-petal designs, and the blade was steel-blue and flexible, yet extremely strong and very sharp. Lucifer raised it and waved it at Undertaker tauntingly, a grin of pure insanity on his face, as he knew he'd just gotten under Undertaker's skin in the most outrageous, surefire way possible.

_"You'll die by her blade!"_

Undertaker roared in anger and charged forward, a gray steak of billowing cloak and shimmering, deadly blade that crossed to the second bookshelf in a split second. Lucifer continued to cackle, and William paled at the horrid, grating sound. It was the sound of someone who had completely and utterly lost his mind; less of a laugh, and more of a series of harsh, cracking staccato sobs, as though the very act of laughing was making him choke.

_"DIE!"_

Undertaker swung, and Lucifer's screech of laughter became one of pain as the blade cleaved away his other arm, leaving him crippled and defenseless. The blue knife flew from his dismembered hand, through the air, and Undertaker caught it with a sweep of his hand, his mutilated face contorted with a hatred so deep, so powerful, that it could have rivaled the anger of the very Gods themselves. He was, unquestionably, in his element.

He was, unquestionably, lethal.

This time, he was not taking any chances. He would _not _lose again. He drew the scythe back, back, aiming like an archer, and threw it as though it weighed no more than a dart. His mouth was set in a grim line as it spun lengthwise through the air, a shining, silver blur of death. The blade sank deep into Resmodus' chest, before protruding from his back and sending him flying across the Library. His Cinematic Record exploded forth and began snapping loudly in the air as the steel cracked ribs, split arteries, tore muscle...

Before finally coming to a lurching, grinding stop, pinning the demon firmly to the wall just above Grell and William, who both paled with horror.

With the precision of an expert marksman, Undertaker gripped the knife of his deceased lover and drew it back, then launched it with a practiced, almost carefree flick of his wrist. The blade whistled through the air and through Lucifer's Cinematic Record, slicing the film in two before thudding into the wall opposite, high above the heads of the many spectators, and Lucifer himself.

Lucifer screamed, his entire body twisting and writhing from where it was pinned, showering both William and Grell with even more blood. It lasted for a several long seconds before, finally, Lucifer gave one last, weak keen of agony, the life dimming from his fire-like eyes as his entire body went slack, his eyes staring blankly past the far wall, unseeing, a look of torment and madness forever imprinted upon his features.

Grell simply stared. He felt no pity, but no joy; simply numbness, as he was shocked beyond words by what he'd just seen.

Undertaker's panting was the only thing that could be heard as everyone stared in grim fascination, too stunned to make a sound, not even a single cheer of victory. Grell continued stare blankly at the body, hardly daring to believe that it was over.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn't.

As he turned his eyes back toward Undertaker, a cheer just beginning to build in his throat, he saw Undertaker jump from his place on the bookshelf, heard the sickening, wet _thump_ of fresh, bloody meat hitting the floor, heard William gasp in a breath...

Heard Undertaker beat him to the scream.

_"GRELL,_ _NO!"_

Before he could figure out what was happening next, something large and strong and solid slammed into him and gripped him hard, to the point where it hurt. He let out a gasp of surprise, regretting the action instantly, as he found the grip so tight that he couldn't draw his breath in again. He vision was blocked out by a moving, living wall of gray, and everything was _chaos..._

He heard the sickening sound of tearing flesh and muscle, spattering blood and the cry of the one who was wounded, the sound of a growl, then a low, dark laugh...

Grell felt the Something clutch him close, and he suddenly felt as though he was going to smother; he still couldn't breath at all, and his face was now being pressed into fabric of the Something and held there defensively, as though it was either trying to keep him safe, or trying to keep him to itself. He was now unsure if the Thing wanted to help or hurt him, but he was too shocked to even struggle, so he just stood there, limp in the grip of his captor.

For several seconds, everything was still and silent and ringing with the aftershocks of the chaos that had come before. Then, whatever was gripping him slowly loosened its hold, and he hesitantly raised his head, scared of what he might see, but desperate to know.

Undertaker's face was directly above his, and as he realized that he had nothing to fear from his captor, he felt sorrow well in his throat, as he just knew, without even looking, that something very, very _bad _had just happened.

Grell slowly took in the ghastly sight of the jawbone, gleaming wetly through the flesh of his beloved. It made him sick to see it, so _sick_ to see it, but he had to _force _himself to look away, over the strong, broad, shoulder of his captor. He saw Resmodus standing behind Undertaker, Undertaker's scythe clutched in his hands, so hard that his knuckles were white, and the body of the fallen Demon leader behind him, next to William, who was simply staring at them from his prostrate position on the floor, his lips slightly open in shock. Grell's gaze followed the handle of the scythe up, up, and his eyes widened, brimmed, and overflowed as they finally came to rest on that blade; that blade that was now deeply embedded into Undertaker's back. As he watched, horrified, Resmodus sneered in a grotesque way at him, and wrenched the blade away as roughly as he could, causing Undertaker to lurch and stumble, a small, breathless moan of pain escaping his lips.

At the wretched sound, Grell finally met Undertaker's wide, agony-filled eyes, his own overflowing with tenfold the tears as he realized what had just happened. Undertaker stared back down at him helplessly, his eyes somehow filling with even more pain; both physical torment, and pure and undiluted _misery _at what Grell had to see. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand and touched Grell's tear-wet cheek, and Grell's tears immediately began to soak his hand, making those brilliant, once-shining emeralds cloud even further with despair.

"G-guh..." Undertaker gasp-grunted, struggling to convey his message, blood gurgling in his throat, then spilling from his mouth and slipping silently down his chin. A massive shudder shook his body, and his hand faltered and fell as he attempted to stroke Grell's tears away. "G-g..."

Grell watched in mute horror as that brilliant green eye slowly rolled back and then slid closed as his beloved fell silent. His head slumping forward and his shoulders sagging, Undertaker slowly sank to his knees before Grell, before falling, seemingly in slow motion, to his side, and simply laying there. Grell watched helplessly as those ethereal silver tendrils of hair that he'd come to love _so much _settled around Undertaker, and his lover went completely, utterly, heartbreakingly still and silent, blood flowing from the massive wound and pooling, slowly, out across the uncaring tile.

For a brief second, Grell's tormented eyes saw the shape of a rose take form in that crimson liquid as it snaked across the ground; the terrible liquid that, for once, he didn't want to see. The rose bloomed, grew and became sharper and took a more solid, defined shape, and, then, just as suddenly as it came, it was erased as the same blood it was formed from continued to spread out, marring the shape into a meaningless puddle. Still, Undertaker laid motionless, oblivious to the sign Grell had just seen, oblivious to all as the weight of his sacrifice settled over his battered body. Instead, he simply lay, his life's blood spreading out around him silently, almost mockingly, as it pooled around Grell's shoes.

Grell's anguished scream of misery rent the air, shattering the stunned silence like glass.


	26. The Kiss of Death

A manic chuckle rose into the air as Grell's scream finally stopped echoing off of the walls, and Grell fell to his knees beside Undertaker, his entire body buckling like his back has broken. The world was a blur, a haze of loud, muffled noises and vague shapes and muddled colors, and he was shaking Undertaker like it would make a difference, and utterly unable to see through his tears.

Nothing made sense.

Grell began to beg like he had never begged before, curses and prayers and helpless, needy whimpers spilling out of him all at once. Resmodus watched, unmoving, a tight, satisfied smirk on his lips as he savored the sight of Grell's agony.

Ah, revenge was sweet.

"P-please..." Grell choked between sobs as Undertaker laid still, making no move, no sound... "Please, Gods... No! Don't you _dare_ leave me! Don't you fucking_ DARE!"_

William's face was showing true, raw emotion for the first time in a very long time. His eyes were wide green pools filled with horror and emotional turmoil. His lips were moving, trembling slightly as he sent a silent, breathless prayer to the Gods.

_Not him. Take me. Take me!_

He swallowed hard, forcing down the thick clot of emotion welling in his throat, and placed a hand on his destroyed knee, grimacing at the excruciating pain and the sickening feeling of his own bone jutting out sharply beneath his hand. Pushing as best he could with his good leg and his free arm, he did his best to hold his shattered limb together as he dragged himself toward Undertaker, desperate to help.

Hoping against hope that he still _could _help at all...

Finally, after several of the most agonizing seconds of his life, he reached them. He felt his leg throbbing, Resmodus' burning red gaze on his face, heard a second, louder chuckle of pleasure rise into the air as his face further contorted in pain when he came to a lurching stop before his fellow reapers, jogging his ruined leg by mistake. He set his teeth, however, and did his best to show no emotion, give the demon no pleasure...

But it was too hard, even for William, as the misery and pain and fury-oh, the _fury_-built inside and overtook him.

Poor Grell was, once again, the one who paid for someone else's pain.

Without warning, William's hand flicked out and slapped him, _hard,_ across the face, jarring him from his frantic shaking, his insistent pleading, and his wretched, destroyed sobs with the loud slap of flesh-against-flesh, and the stinging pain that accompanied it.

_"Get yourself together!"_ William shouted mercilessly as Grell immediately recoiled, holding his cheek and going into shocked, deathly silence. "That solves _nothing,_ Grell, _absolutely nothing! CHANGE THAT AND MAKE IT MATTER!"_

William's agonized chest heaved painfully as he panted and gulped for air, his leg throbbing horribly and his head swimming as his blood continued to leak sluggishly from his body, slowly turning him whiter and whiter. Shocked by his own outburst, he felt guilt crash over him as Grell, hand still at his reddened, stinging cheek, slowly turned his head and locked eyes with him, looking hurt and frightened. The tears, those _maddening _tears, had stopped, at least, but the pitiful look he gave William was even more of a punishment. It was very much like scolding a puppy.

_I didn't mean it, _His eyes seemed to say. _Why did you hurt me? I wouldn't have hurt you, so why did you hit me? I don't understand..._

William blinked, dropping his eyes away from Grell, not able to bear the guilt as those hurt, teary eyes continued to accuse him. He turned his attention to the demon instead, expecting him to break his cocky silence and make a move now that Grell had gone quiet, but Resmodus simply continued watching, an amused look on his face as his fingers drummed lightly along the bloodied handle of the stolen scythe. He was obviously enjoying their joint distress, and he didn't want to end the show before he squeezed every last bit of pleasure out of it as possible. William looked back at Grell solemnly, biting his lip in a meek, silent gesture, and Grell dropped his hand from his cheek, his eyes clouding over with cool indifference as he seemed to disregard the subtle apology. His face became a stoic mask that could have easily matched William's any other day, and the redhead slowly, calmly got to his feet, picking up his scythe and turning his back on both Undertaker and William. He slowly stood, and moved instead to face Resmodus, his lips parting as he let out a long, low breath. William watched, perplexed and tense at the normally emotional, nearly melodramatic redhead's incredibly abrupt change.

He knew that look on Grell's face all too well, but he hardly dared to believe it just yet.

Resmodus grinned wickedly at the feminine Shinigami, Undertaker's scythe still held casually in his hand. Grell met his eyes, his own now looking calm, almost content, and Resmodus was reminded of a useless old hound who did nothing but laze about in the sun all day. It was the same mindless, pathetic look; the I-Don't-Care of a bored schoolboy who was busy daydreaming in the middle of a lesson.

"No one talks back to Master Lucifer and keeps his tongue." Resmodus said as Grell simply stared at him, his voice low and cool. "No one lays a hand on Master Lucifer and gets to keep it." He continued, raising his scythe and pointing the now-dripping, crimson blade at Grell. "And no one will _ever _kill a leader as great as he was, and have their kind survive. I will finish what he started. I will become the next Master Lucifer! _I will rebuild the world as I see fit!"_

Resmodus panted as he finished, his vow ringing off the library walls. His eyes were wide and glinting with a mad light, and saliva traced down either corner of his mouth. It was then that William realized with utter disgust that the demon had gone just as _mad _as Lucifer; simply drunk with power, and plagued with the egotistical attitude of one who was worshiped like the Gods by their mindless, blithering followers. No wonder their plan had been so insane, their tactics so reckless; they all belonged in straight jackets, thanks to the torturous amounts of brainwashing they'd all been put through.

William forced these thoughts from his mind and concentrated on what was important instead, trusting Grell to handle the situation, and cover him until he finished what he needed to do. He scooted forward another few inches, feeling sick to his stomach as the still-warm blood of his creator began to soak into his clothes and make his skin wet and sticky. He rolled Undertaker over onto his stomach with a small grunt and a mighty (and extremely painful) heave, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small medical kit he had handy, praying it would be enough to keep help his creator until he could do the job properly. Knowing he had very little, precious time, he grabbed the nearest scythe- what appeared to be hedge trimmers -and slit open both of Undertaker's cloaks with one movement, pulling the fabric away impatiently when it fell open, sodden with blood. He had to start now, before one of the two of them lost too much blood, and it was all over.

Grell, meanwhile, continued to stare at Resmodus, his eyes traveling slowly over his opponent, considering him as one would consider a schoolyard bully. Slowly, like a child investigating a new playmate, he tilted his head to the side, and Resmodus still saw nothing but the look of a lazy, useless hound as Grell's eyes continued to search him.

Needless to say, he was hardly intimidated.

"You said I needed an army at my back," Grell breathed after several seconds, his voice just barely above a whisper, and his face still blank. He took a small, almost nonexistent step forward, his scythe held limply at his side, and Resmodus narrowed his eyes, pondering how he was going to kill Grell; pondering how he could make it as painful as possible.

"You said I couldn't fight you without them," He continued, taking another few, slightly larger steps forward, his pace increasing just the slightest amount. Resmodus stood his ground, taking on the challenge with a self-confident smirk on his face and a nasty idea in his head; brutal rape and dismemberment should do the trick...

"You said I could never tear you apart." Grell said, beginning to walk briskly now, rapidly closing the distance. Resmodus' smile slipped a bit as he reconsidered Grell, and he took a small step back, second thoughts hedging his conscious. Something about the way the Shinigami was holding himself, the way he stalked forward, lowered his head until his eyes weren't visible, timed his steps... It disturbed him. Greatly.

"Stay away from me..." He said, before he could notice that he was even thinking it. He was frowning deeply as Grell continued to stalk forward, getting faster and fiercer with every step.

It was then that he realized the lazy hound had awoken, and was hunting now; stalking his prey, ruthless and relentless and incredibly well-versed in the hunt, seeking him...

Stalking him.

"You said I could never win." He was nearly jogging now, his scythe raising, aiming, being held at the ready. Resmodus blinked, remembering the injuries to the Shinigami's back, staring at his mutilated leg, and then focusing on Grell himself as he continued to move, faster and faster, his injuries completely and utterly ignored.

That wasn't fucking natural.

That was fucking wrong.

In _so _many fucking ways.

_And it was fucking scary._

Grell's head was still lowered as he moved forward, and Resmodus took several more steps back, his eyes flashing warily. Suddenly, he saw a white glint of razorblade teeth, and he realized that this Shinigami was not only charging forward on a leg that was nearly ripped to the bone, but he was charging forward and_ grinning like a fucking loon._

And those _teeth..._

"Stay _back!" _Resmodus commanded, now backing away very quickly, the hand holding the scythe trembling with fear, his knuckles ghost-white. _"You get the FUCK away from me!"_

_"You were WRONG!"_

The scythe roared to life like some massive, murderous creature sent from the very depths of Hell itself. Resmodus screamed in honest, unbridled _terror,_ and he instinctively brought up the scythe to defend himself. The chainsaw slammed against the handle of the scythe, directly where Resmodus was gripping it, and an ear-piercing shriek of pain went up as his fingers were ripped away instantly, the scythe dropping uselessly from his hand and clattering against the ground. Grell let out the craziest, most insane laugh William had ever heard, and he paled and trembled, literally _trembled,_ as that laugh mixed with Resmodus' scream; a scream of terror and pain, a scream that begged for mercy without saying a single, coherent word.

Oh, but Grell was_ just getting started._

He swung his scythe again, and Resmodus brought up his arms to protect himself, his hands shielding his face. Grell's chainsaw cut through his arms like cheap paper, and Resmodus screamed in agony as that petite, feminine reaper used that massive, deadly weapon to send him flying, rolling and tumbling and bouncing across the floor like a ragdoll. His arms were bloodied and mangled; nerves and tendons and muscles ripped apart and destroyed, bones broken and arteries pouring forth all they had to offer. His chest had been cut as well, and the meat beneath gleamed wetly in the light as blood immediately seeped forward. Grell let out a manic, high-pitched giggle and cut the scythe off, his mind flicking through the options of what he could do next. His eyes were wide and delighted as he took in the sight of the demon's injuries, and a massive, Chesire grin split his bloodied face. He looked truly and utterly insane as he approached Resmodus again, and Resmodus let out a low wail of terror, trying to move his arms and push himself up, and finding, to his horror, that they wouldn't move correctly. His bones grated and his muscles spasmed erratically, but, otherwise, they refused to obey in the slightest as he struggled to drag himself along.

"Please, _please!" _He begged, realizing how much trouble he was in, whimpering and cowering back as Grell came forward. His still-ignored leg leaving bloodied footprints as he moved, Grell simply grinned back at him; the hound had come alive at last. "I beg of you, have mercy... I'll stop, I'll be your slave. For eternity! I, I...!"

"You'll die." Grell said with another giggle, tossing the scythe aside, as though it had no use in the world. "But not just yet. Oh _no,_ I'm _not _done with you. You'll bleed _much _more before you die. You'll scream too. Oh, _you'll scream."_

Resmodus wailed again, louder, and continued to try and will his arms to move properly as Grell gripped the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, his smile vanishing, his eyes becoming as cold as ice once more.

"I'll have fun ripping you apart for ever _daring _to resist me,_ little demon." _Grell spat, repeating what Resmodus had said to him what now seemed like an eternity ago, though it couldn't have been more than half an hour. "I'll make you _beg _for _death."_

Resmodus screeched in pain as Grell shot a hand forward, and a fingernail, manicured to be as sharp as broken glass, dug deep into his eye and writhed there, tearing mercilessly at the sensitive organ. Pain exploded throughout his body, and he thrashed and screamed, his battered arms struggling to find the strength to raise and push Grell away. However, he now realized what had happened; vital nerves, tendons, and muscle had been severed, and his arms were now nothing more than useless bags of meat. They merely hung at his sides, twitching uselessly as his scream rose in pitch and his pain mounted, causing him to thrash involuntarily.

Grell watched him struggle with a cold, satisfied smirk on his face. He was only making it worse on himself, really, because if he weren't fighting like that, he wouldn't be driving Grell's finger in deeper, making it move in more and further gouge out the flaming red eye. However, Grell sure as hell wasn't going to stop him, and he let Resmodus aid him in inflicting even worse damage, his smile widening slowly as he watched the demon dig his own grave just a little bit deeper.

Finally, after nearly a minute of Resmodus' screams of pain and terror, Grell wrenched his nail away, actually causing more pain instead of relief as he yanked out what remained of the eye. Resmodus' shriek raised in pitch, then faltered away to pitiful, insistent whimpering, blood pouring down his face from the now-empty eyesocket. His remaining eye stared up at Grell, full of fear and agony and simply _begging _for him for forgiveness. Grell tilted his head, staring down at him coldly, and to Resmodus' shock and, possibly, relief, Grell simply dropped him.

He thudded to the floor, crying softly and laying at Grell's feet, blood dripping to the ground like water as his eye continued to bleed out. Grell snorted with contempt, hooking the toe of his shoe under the pitiful demon and rolling him over, then leaning down and staring coldly into his remaining eye, looking very unimpressed with his show of weakness.

"Does it hurt,_ little demon?" _He asked sarcastically, pressing his shoe down on the demon's face, his heel digging into his mouth and silencing him, save for a few loud sobs and muffled screams that were choked out around it. "Do you wish for me to stop?"

Resmodus simply stared up at him helplessly, one eye leaking tears, the other blood. He knew no matter what he answered, he was in deep shit, and he was doomed no matter what he said. Grell's lip curled back with disdain, and he dug his heel in further, smirking coldly as he felt several teeth cracking and ripping away under the pressure. Resmodus choked and gagged, nearly retching, then screamed again, trying to turn his head away and stop the pain. But, no matter what he tried, Grell's heel held him in place, and he was forced to stay there, choking on both the heel and the sickeningly metallic taste of his own blood, which pooled in his mouth from the annihilated teeth that still grated sickeningly within.

"What was that? Did you just try to shake your head?"

Resmodus screamed something incoherent around Grell's heel, and Grell's massive, wolfish grin sent pure and utter terror ripping through his body.

"You did, didn't you? You don't want me to stop, hm? You _sick _little masochist."

The heel was removed, and Resmodus spat out teeth and blood as Grell disappeared from his line of sight. He whimpered pitifully, and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to crawl away to avoid whatever horrors that may be coming next. His arms dragged uselessly at his sides, weighting him down, and his feet slipped and slid in his own blood, unable to push him forward more than a few agonizingly pitiful inches. Resmodus sobbed in terror, and struggled to move faster as he heard the sound of Grell's footsteps approaching again.

Grell returned with a sneer of contempt on his face and his chainsaw clutched casually in his hand. Resmodus glanced over his shoulder and shrieked at this, and Grell bared his fangs, disgusted at the wretched sight.

"You make me _sick."_

Resmodus' neck recoiled painfully as Grell's shoe slammed into his face, and he was stunned into silence, even more blood pouring down his face and into his mouth from his now-broken nose. Grell scoffed softly, and Resmodus felt Grell's shoe dig into his back again, and pain ripped through his body as Grell leaned forward, his sharp heel digging into Resmodus' sensitive spine.

"Do you want to know something, _little demon?" _Grell said calmly, a sarcastic, icy, biting edge to his voice. "You consider yourself to be the next God of Hell... No, the next God of the _Realms, _is that right?"

Resmodus simply whimpered in response, and Grell's heel dug in more, causing him to arch and twitch with pain as his body seemed to shriek. He struggled not to cry out, as he knew this would only make Grell hurt him further, but he couldn't help the breathless whimper of agony that managed to breach his lips.

"Guess what, honey? There's _No. Such. Thing. _There _is_ no one God; there are several, more than we know, and they work _together _to keep balance. Therefore, there is no 'God of the Realms', there are only the _Gods _of the Realms. Quite frankly, honey, you _don't _qualify, and you don't have a prayer in all the Realms of ever succeeding in any of your crazy little schemes; partly because I'm about to make you suffer to your last breath, and partly because you are the most _worthless_, _pathetic _piece of _shit _I've _ever _laid eyes on. You and your precious 'Master Lucifer' failed because you forgot the most important rule of the Universe; one cannot keep order, cannot succeed, cannot _rule _alone, and most certainly not _you."_

Above, on the balcony, Ciel watched the two with mesmerized horror, still crouched by his butler's side. Sebastian had been slipping in an out of consciousness ever since he'd first gone down, and he was currently out cold again, a squeamish Ciel trying to clean the blood from his face as he watched the proceedings below. Ciel glanced over to his left as he heard shuffling, and a stunned and very disoriented Ronald Knox slowly sat up, gingerly wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. The entire right side of his face was puffy and bruised black and blue, and his was eye swollen shut. Dried blood was streaked down the entire side of his face, and it darkened a bit of his blond hair, dying it yet a third color. Ronald looked at Ciel with his good eye, blinking in hazy confusion, then he looked down at the floor below, and it grew wide with shock. Beneath them, William, who had finished fixing Undertaker to the best of his ability, stared at the gruesome sight of Resmodus' current predicament as well, his eyes as horrified as those of the two above him.

"I'm going to rip you apart, oh King of the Fools, just so that you never forget that _power _must be _divided."_

Resmodus screamed in terror as the chainsaw roared to life, and he felt one leg being sheared away, just below the knee. The feeling of the skin tearing, the blood spurting, the bone cracking and falling away like wet sand, exposing raw, throbbing nerve beneath... It was absolutely the most painful thing he'd ever felt, and his screech of torment was like that of an animal caught in a trap. Grell's shrieking laughter joined him, mocking his pain, his suffering, his very existence.

Grell, not yet satisfied, readjusted his foot so that he was now standing on what remained of Resmodus' leg, causing the stump to spurt forth twice as much blood as before. Resmodus' screaming increased in pitch again as Grell brought down his scythe a second time, the chainsaw ripping and tearing the flesh of his other leg away like tissue paper, blood spattering up and covering Grell's entire front with just another coat of crimson. He placed his second foot on the newly-made, broken stub, and Resmodus could no longer even scream, as the pain was simply too great, and all of his senses had been replaced with white-hot agony. Grell sneered down at him, as one would a dead rat, and he cut the scythe off again, leaning down and hissing mockingly.

"What's the matter, _little demon, _cat got your tongue?" He snapped, stepping off of Resmodus and causing a frantic whimper to slip past the demon's bruised, bloody lips. "Do you want me to stop now?"

"Pleashe..." Resmodus rasped, his remaining eye staring up at Grell pleadingly and his speech now impeded by a lack of teeth and the brutal injuries to his mouth and jaw. Blood flecked the ground as he spoke, and his lips revealed his bloodied mass of gums and broken teeth as he grimaced in pain. "Pleashe, Ah beh of oou, Grahll, Ah-"

"_How DARE You!" _Grell screeched in fury, and Resmodus went rolling as that merciless shoe slammed into his face again, this time fracturing his cheek, as Resmodus heard the _crack! _himself. He came to a stop after rolling several feet, and he lay on his back, dazed and bleeding with renewed vigor, his eye struggling to focus on Grell.

_"How DARE You speak my name, you STUPID, WORTHLESS, MEANINGLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"_

Resmodus screamed in agony as Grell's scythe, still cut off and, normally harmless in such a state, slammed into his stomach, cutting deep into his flesh as Grell powered it forward. He felt his organs shift, some of them tearing and beginning to bleed out fatally as Grell's scythe continued to plunge down, _down, _until the tip exited through his back, severing nerves like strings, and breaking his spine like a twig. Resmodus' let out a breathless wail as his lower body was stolen by a numbness that was somehow even worse, more _terrifying, _than the agonizing pain, and everything above his waist was plunged into a world of that same burning, haunting pain instead. He couldn't see anymore, as his remaining eye whited out from agony, and he writhed as best as a broken man can, which was really just a pathetic twitching about like that of a fish who had been out of water for _far _too long.

Grell's furious grimace loomed down at him, and he shrank back as best he could as the blade of the chainsaw was mercilessly twisted, and then ripped, slowly, _painfully,_ out of his body, causing him to cry out again. Grell scoffed as Resmodus' Cinematic Record fluttered into the air, ignoring it as one would a bothersome child, and Resmodus, indeed, found himself begging that Grell would just hurry up and _cut it... _just as Grell had promised.

Grell had no such idea in mind.

"Who did you just kill, hm?" Grell breathed, and Resmodus was shocked by the sudden tears of fury in Grell's eyes. "Who did you just take away from me?"

Resmodus, knowing what would happen if he dared utter that name, set what remained of his teeth and stared up at Grell with wild-eyed fear. Grell's lips curled back, and he seized Resmodus' hand, squeezing it and forcing the claws out.

_"No, oh GAHDS, NO!" _Resmodus screamed as Grell seized one claw with his hand. Grell smirked wickedly back at him, and wrenched his arm back, smiling in manic delight through his tears as Resmodus shrieked in agony as his claw was ripped completely out from the roots.

Grell repeated this brutal procedure, twice, with Resmodus someone yelling louder and louder with each claw removed, until his voice peaked beyond it's limit, cracked, and became a meaningless, hoarse series of sobs that gurgled with blood and tears alike.

_"Who did you take from me? SAY IT!"_

_"DA G-GRIM REAPAR!" _Resmodus screamed, his neck arching as bloody tears streaked his face. He knew he was in a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, and he just wanted to hurry the process of his demise along, no matter how painful. _"DA UNDAHTAKAR!"_

_"THE ONE I LOVED!" _Grell shrieked back at him, grabbing his shirt and hauling him forward until they were face-to-face. _"You BACKSTABBING SON OF A BITCH! _You didn't even have the courage to even _fight _him! You did what your _WORTHLESS, GUTLESS, TRAITOR OF A MASTER DID!" _Grell screamed, his voice rising in pitch as bloody tears of his own dripped onto Resmodus' face. _"YOU_ would have made _AN EXCELLENT FUCKING REPLACEMENT _for that _TRASH,_ because you're even _WORSE _than _HE _was!"

Resmodus' hopes of relief were shattered as Grell threw him back down and proceeded to rip away the rest of his claws, dragging out the removal of each several seconds longer than he needed to. Resmodus wailed like a cat being skinned alive, and Grell kicked him in the jaw when he had ripped the last jagged claw away, finally losing the will to be patient and play with his victim.

_"Shut up!"_ He spat, reaching down and picking up the sobbing, pitiful Resmodus once again, this time by the throat. His hand gripping one of Resmodus' arms dangerously, he clicked his teeth with every word. _"You sniveling little whelp!"_

Resmodus felt his arm break as Grell pressed it lengthwise across his knee, and he began to thrash once more as he felt the bone stab through his flesh, just as William's knee had. Grell, furious, menacing, and utterly heartbroken, literally ripped his arm away with his bare hand, his muscles easily tearing the rest of the tissue once the bone was broken and the skin was cut. Resmodus, still able to feel this, screamed like an animal once again, and Grell flung his arm aside, staring coldly down at Resmodus, his face contorted in rage and disgust.

Above, Sebastian stirred once more, and Ciel's stricken eyes weren't even able to break away and look down at him, as they were held hopelessly captive by the morbid scene below. He knew Grell had a terrifying, violent personality when he was pressed, as he had seen him kill his own Aunt Anne first hand. However, this... this was just _too much._ He had never imagined that any creature with human intelligence could _possibly _be able to commit such cruelty, not even after the death of his parents, but he was horribly, _horribly _wrong. He could hear Ronald's tiny, shocked cry from the corner, but he didn't glance over. He had a feeling what was going to happen next would be even worse, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look away.

It was like watching a train wreck.

William was no better off, as he was white as a sheet, both from loss of blood, and from what he was witnessing. His eyes were frozen on Grell, who was facing his direction, Resmodus' defiled, mutilated body hanging limply in his hand as Grell continued to hold him up by his throat. William knew Grell had a temper, all right, and any angry Shinigami was dangerous, because though they resembled and acted like humans, they simply _weren't, _and though they were higher beings, they could _easily _become animalistically primal whenever their emotions were _this_ out of hand, producing a deadly creature who had the sense to plot and reason while having the brute force and instinct to cause unimaginable damage. However, it wasn't very common at all, and he'd _never _seen _anything _like this; never anything _this _untamed or senseless or brutal. He was scared for his own life by that point, earnestly wondering if Grell had lost his mind completely, and wishing he was farther away. _Much _farther.

As he watched, he was somehow even more acutely shocked as Grell's face softened abruptly. Grell gazed down at Resmodus as he would a lover, and Resmodus' bewildered and yet incredibly terrified look was utterly justified as Grell whispered down softly to him, his blood-soaked hand reaching up and stroking softly across his cheek, causing the demon to flinch hard and whimper.

"Would you like a kiss before you die?" Grell asked, his voice soft and caring as his fingers brushed lovingly over the flesh of the demon beneath him. "A Kiss of Death from the Lady in Red who will be the one that steals your life away?"

Resmodus stared up at him, his eye wide and confused and continuously leaking tears of pain. Grell simply looked calmly back down at him, still stroking his cheek. Silence passed between the two for several seconds, and Resmodus flinched when Grell spoke again, expecting another violent outburst. However, he was shocked when Grell's voice came out still soft and calm, almost... _loving._

"Well, do you, little demon?"

Resmodus closed his eye, figuring that Grell was expecting him to say 'no', so he could torture him some more in another sick, twisted, unbelievably painful way. Well, Resmodus had one last trick up his sleeve; he'd deny Grell that. It would be a tiny, meaningless victory, and it would change nothing, but it would be a victory nonetheless, and Resmodus _hated _losing.

"Y-yesh." He stuttered, opening his eye again and looking up at Grell, relaxing slightly, despite the ripping torment still surging through all the non-numb parts of his ruined form.

To his complete and utter shock, and the shock of everyone around them, Grell obediently leaned forward, his lips brushing Resmodus' the slightest amount. Resmodus took in a sharp breath of surprise, and Grell leaned back a bit, studying him with the same soft expression.

Then, his eyes narrowed, and they hardened to flint, and took on the cold of ice, the glint of steel. Resmodus realized his mistake much too late.

_That _was the answer Grell had wanted, and Resmodus had trotted right into his trap like a foolish, hapless puppy.

Ciel felt something grab him from behind, and Sebastian's hand, bare and ridden with blood and scratches, covered his eyes, thankfully saving the boy from an eternity of remembering the sight of what happened next. Ronald, William, and Sebastian himself weren't so lucky, however, and the other spectators would not get off lightly, either.

Grell lunged like a shark, and his teeth sank into either side of Resmodus' face and clamped down, hard and with absolutely no mercy whatsoever. The sound of breaking bones and the wet ripping of flesh and muscle and spattering, pouring blood could be heard by everyone, but it was quickly drowned out by Resmodus' scream.

Sebastian's hand could not shield Ciel from that scream, and a whimper of terror escaped the boy as he heard it. Ronald went very, very pale and started to tremble like a leaf in a windstorm, and William clamped his jaw shut, gagging and feeling vomit rise in the back of his throat, though he could not stop staring, could not stop hanging on to every aspect of the sight before him like an entranced playgoer.

Resmodus' final scream of pure agony was much, _much _worse than any of the others he had uttered. If he had sounded like a dying animal before, he now sounded like an animal who was caught alive in a trap, then wrenched away mercilessly, having its paws torn clean off. It sounded like that same animal as it was held up, up, by its tail, high in the air, and then slit open, disemboweled, and skinned alive. It sounded like that animal as its still writhing, living body was tossed aside and left to die, its pelt carried away by the heartless hunter who didn't make one move to stop his dogs, who leapt upon the animal and tore it to pieces as soon as the cold ground touched its naked nerves and sent the worst pain imaginable flooding through its body.

His tormented shrieking was like that of that nameless animal, and Grell was the trap who clamped down on him and refused to let him go. Grell was the hunter who gripped Resmodus' neck with his hand and wrenched his ruined face out not by releasing his fangs, but by tearing Resmodus' skin away instead. Grell was the hunter who skinned Resmodus alive, as his chainsaw roared to life when Resmodus' shrieking body hit the floor, and he slit him wide open, from the base of his neck to his scrotum, exposing his innards. Grell was the hunter who reached down and ripped Resmodus' still-beating heart from his body, sneering down at the demon as his eyes rolled back and he went still, his Cinematic Record exploding into the air. Grell was the pack of dogs as his still-screaming chainsaw thrust upward and cut the film to pieces, finally ending the wretched suffering of that sickening, worthless, pathetic animal named Resmodus.

He cut off the chainsaw as the film faded away, and he stared down at Resmodus' heart in his gloved hand wordlessly, his face blank once again as he considered his "pelt"; the thing he had sought out in order to make things even from the very beginning. Indeed, this had been his target all along; an eye for an eye, a heart wrenched out to make up for one that had been shattered.

Ah, yes, _that _was what he would do.

Finally, he dropped the heart with a gentle tilt of his hand, and it landed on the floor with a sickening _splat._ Grell cut his chainsaw on again, and raised it in an arc above his head, bring it slamming point-down on the organ, blood spattering far and wide as it was completely destroyed.

_Now _things were even.

Ronald whimpered, and promptly fell over in a dead faint, too sickened to take any more. William turned away, covering his mouth to hold back the vomit that threatened to win over him, his body heaving as he gagged, the pain of his jarred leg and heaving, injured diaphragm not helping his nausea in the slightest. Even Sebastian averted his eyes, though seeing that Resmodus was finally dead pleased him; he'd never liked the way that obnoxiously haughty man stared at Ciel, as though he were a piece of meat. That was _his_ job. Hell, he'd never liked _any _of them; that was why he was here, afterall.

Finally, the chainsaw stopped for the last time, and Grell stood silently in the center of the Library, covered in blood-both his own and foreign-and wounds. Silent, bloody tears running down his face, he realized that he _still _wasn't satisfied. Revenge was sweet, and he didn't regret what he'd just done in the slightest. He'd do it again, and again, and _again, happily,_ but there was one key problem to it all:

It wouldn't bring Undertaker back.

xxx

Extremely violent, bloody, torture chapter. XD I'm sure you all enjoyed this; Resmodus certainly had it coming.


	27. Back in Business

"Grell?"

William's hoarse voice was just above a whisper, and he was honestly scared of saying anything at all. Grell was simply standing there, covered in blood, blood dripping from his fangs and patting gently against the floor. He was staring off into the distance, at something only he could see, and his eyes were misty as bitter tears continued to track through the blood on his face.

Slowly, Grell looked up, meeting William's eyes almost hesitantly. To William's shock, they were the eyes of a wounded puppy once more, hurt and pleading for pity, as though Grell was expecting to be scolded for the horrifying thing he'd just done.

William wouldn't have dared. Not right now, not when Grell may not even be mentally sound. No thank you, he'd like to keep his face.

"Grell," William repeated, his voice placating and soft, though Grell no longer looked dangerous. Still, he wasn't taking any chances; Grell was known for his hair-trigger temper. "Grell, you need to help me. I can't walk right now. I need you to go upstairs and bring down as many bottles of that tonic as you can. The tonic we had yesterday, remember?" William relaxed a bit as Grell nodded numbly, but he continued to watch his subordinate warily. Grell understood him, obviously, but that didn't mean he may not come over and hack his head off, as he could still very well be in the midst of a homicidal rampage. "I need you to to give them to anyone who's not too injured, understood? That means no really gruesome wounds, no broken bones, or anything like that. Just people who have minor injuries; a few cuts here, a bruise there, that sort of thing. Get the rest of them to help you," He said, nodding toward the shocked spectators, who were staring at Grell as though he were Satan himself, many of them slowly stepping back.

"Then, I need you to bring me back as many of the stitches as you can; they'll be in my office in the cabinet, in a a few large brown boxes toward the back, on the bottom right shelf. I'm definitely going to need them, and I want you to bring them ASAP." He glanced down at Undertaker, and Grell's eyes widened and gained back some of their life again as he realized what this meant.

"He's still with us, Grell," William confirmed solemnly. "But just barely. I may still have a chance of dragging him back, but you've got to hurry, okay?"

Grell was off almost before William could finish his sentence, leaping up the stairs in two bounds and tearing off toward his office, a streak of red hair and jacket that left a light trail of blood behind, his injured leg completely ignored. William looked at the others, roughly twenty Shinigami in all, and they all took off to find those who needed help once they realized Grell had left. Clearly, none of them wanted to risk his anger.

"Hey!"

About five of them paused when William called out, and the exhausted Head Shinigami motioned for them to come forward. They did so, hesitantly and staring with obvious disgust and horror at William's ruined leg. William grimaced as they arrived before him, shifting and trying to hide the injury, to no avail.

"I want you all to go through and kill any other demons that are lying around." He said, leaning back on his hands in an attempt to relieve some of the pain in his leg, not bothering to hide it once he realized it was impossible. "With the exception of the Earl and his Butler, they must all die. _All _of them. No mercy, no prisoners. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" They responded, and William nodded at them, signaling for them to go. They fanned out across the Library, a handful of Cinematic Records fluttering into the air as they went.

William looked back down at Undertaker as they tore off, and he placed two fingers to his mentor's throat, feeling the weak, slow pulse there. Undertaker was still alive, but William doubted he'd last the night, even if they did somehow manage to piece him back together. Knowing this broke his heart and sent icy terror through his blood, but he was still going to push his emotions aside and try his hardest.

It was all he could do, afterall, and it wasn't as though he wasn't used to it, anyway.

000

Grell tore up the stairs and past the two demons there, ignoring them completely, though he came within feet of them. Sebastian, still with his hand shielding Ciel's eyes, watched him warily, ready to defend his Young Master again if need be, even though he could no longer even stand, himself. Ciel whimpered softly when he heard Grell pass, and Sebastian instinctively clutched him closer. There was no need, however, as Grell seemed to be oblivious to them as he slammed open the door to the Higher-Officer Wing and tore down the long hallway. His bloodied hand fumbled with the doorknob to William's room, and he hissed in irritation, ripping off his blood-soaked glove with his teeth and then opening the door.

William's room was basically a small, private library of his own. The most important books of all the Library were kept here, and they were stored on the two large bookcases in the corner of the room. A mahogany desk adorned the center of the room, seated on a complimentary forest-green rug, and a well-worn, overstuffed easy chair sat behind the desk. A few neat stacks of papers sat atop the desk, waiting to be put away in the filing cabinet in the corner. Grell ignored all of this, however, and he tracked a horrid amount of blood inside as he scrambled for his destination; the large wooden cabinet, which was nicely polished and smelling pleasantly of oak, tucked in snugly next to the filing cabinet.

Grell ripped open the cabinet doors, and the force of it sent an avalanche of medical supplies raining down on his head. William would be furious when he saw the mess, but Grell didn't care. He dropped to his knees, whimpering at the shooting, ripping pain in his leg as the wound Resmodus' claws had inflicted protested at the sudden movement. The adrenaline rush was over, and he was becoming more and more painfully aware of the wound with every second that passed.

He searched around where William had indicated; the bottom right-hand shelf, and he yanked out one of the three boxes there and tore it open, letting out a small cry of relief when he saw the neat bundles of tightly-wound stitches within. He closed the box and then grabbed the other two, stumbling up to his feet and taking them with him. It was a bit much to carry, and he had to move slightly slower as he ran back to William, which infuriated him to no end. He had to hurry, he had no time for things like this!

He ran down the stairs, faltering and almost falling as his leg nearly gave out, and headed back for William. William was still seated next to Undertaker, observing the other Shinigami's wounds with grim certainty. He need not worry about the others for now, as the number of up-and-mobile Shinigami was up to twenty seven, and slowly climbing. They could take care of themselves for now; he needed to focus on Undertaker.

William looked up as a panting, stumbling Grell came up to him and knelt beside him. William repressed a shudder now that he saw Grell up close; Sweet Gods of the _Realms _that was a _lot _of blood. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered William too much, and he would have been worried more about the mess it would make, but knowing and witnessing where it all had come from made it _much _more disturbing than that, and he looked away.

"Thank you, Grell." He said, taking a box from the younger Shinigami and opening it, inspecting the contents for a second before sitting back again, satisfied. "This is plenty."

He pulled out a bundle of stitches and unraveled it, threading a sutcher he had had handy in his medical kit. He had always carried a small kit around with him, in one of the many inner pockets of his jacket, and he'd used the small supply of stitches inside to sew up Undertaker's worst ailment earlier; a punctured lung, to be exact. Grell watched him as he drug himself a few more inches forward and got to work once more, intent on finishing his mending of Undertaker's worst wound.

The wound wasn't particularly large, as it was only half as long as the old scar that snaked across Undertaker's entire chest from the elbow of his right arm to his left shoulder. This wound, instead, started at his right shoulder blade and ended, mercifully, an inch or so short of his spine, sparing him from permanent paralysis, or worse; death. However, this wound was certainly much deeper, and Grell felt nauseous as he watched William pull it open and began to stitch it closed from the bottom up. He looked away, feeling weak and dizzy at the sight of his lover's gruesome injury, and William's calm voice explained what was going on without Grell having to watch.

"The major problem here is that he punctured a lung." William said, brow furrowed as he worked as quickly as possible, as every precious drop of blood lost was an absolute waste. "That's what I used up my other stitches on first, and thankfully I had just enough. Normally, it wouldn't be too huge of a deal for a Shinigami, and I wouldn't be nearly as concerned, as a few weeks of bed rest would solve the problem, but this is an injury from a death scythe, so we really have to worry about blood loss, and whether or not he can breathe. He still has one good lung, at least, but in this condition, he needs all the help he can get, and even for a Shinigami, something like being a lung short that can be a huge handicap when you're this badly injured."

Grell nodded weakly, closing his eyes and wiping the sticky demon blood from his jaw, trying to keep from thinking too hard about Undertaker. The bright red liquid all over his body was beginning to dry, and Grell was now aware of how much of it actually covered him. It provided an excellent distraction from looking back at Undertaker, and he welcomed it.

"We're lucky it was inflicted on his right side," William continued, his hand still working with quick, expert movements, rapidly closing the wound. "If it had been to his left, it would have stabbed through his heart as well as his lung, and I wouldn't even be trying to help. That's something that _will _kill you instantly, and it's near-impossible to fix, anyway, so trying to do anything is futile.

"I'm fairly certain it missed his spine and any of his vital nerves," He said, biting his lip as his hands continued to work, rapidly moving closer to the surface. "So the most he may have to deal with his a bit of loss of feeling, or possibly some numbness. It's just the skin of his back, though, so I don't think he'll notice too much. Severed nerves are more likely to cause no feeling instead of pain, and he managed to avoid getting anything that would impede his movement to a noticeable degree injured."

Grell nodded again, feeling numb with both relief and anxiety. He dared to glance over once more, and was content to see that William was now stitching Undertaker's skin back together, concentrating hard on his work. He sighed, suddenly, as he closed the last inch of the wound, and Grell looked over at him, dread rising in his chest as he realized what William was about to say next.

"Grell, I'm going to be honest; he's lost a lot of blood. And I mean a lot." William said grimly, cutting the last stitch and tying it off with a few quick movements. "And there's the problem with his lung again; the bleeding has stopped now, I made sure of that, but the stitches are obviously very fresh. If one of them rips internally, he'll bleed to death, and we won't be able to know about it until it's too late." William said, looking up and locking eyes with Grell. His own eyes were tired, apologetic; mournful as he predicted Undertaker's grim fate.

"I don't know if he'll make it, Grell. I've done my best, but sometimes even giving everything you have just... isn't enough. He's got maybe a fifteen percent chance of making the night. It all depends on whether or not he's getting enough air, and whether or not he can rebuild his blood supply fast enough. It's out of our hands and up to him now; the most we can do is keep an eye on him, and try to make him as comfortable as possible."

Grell nodded weakly, tears brimming in his eyes and running down his face once more, though they flowed silently now. He bit his lip hard, hugging himself and staring dejectedly down at Undertaker, expecting him to stop breathing at any second. William frowned, his eyes unnaturally soft with sympathy, then laid a comforting hand on Grell's shoulder; a very rare gesture, indeed.

"Normally I wouldn't allow such a thing," He said softly, and Grell glanced over at him, wiping a few tears from his face. "But under the circumstances, I'll let you stay with him when we manage to get him up to the infirmary. He did the same for you."

Grell blinked, staring at William dumbly for several seconds as he processed what he'd been told. William blinked in surprise and winced when Grell lunged out and hugged him tightly, and he scowled at the redhead, though he didn't have the heart to push him away.

"T-thank you..." Grell whimpered, and William dropped the scowl ever-so-slightly, then patted his back awkwardly, feeling out of place. He wasn't used to this sort of affection, this sort of contact. Not at all.

"Don't worry about it." He said bluntly, taking Grell's shoulders and gently pushing him away. "Now will you please get off? Because I think I'm going to smack you if you keep jarring my leg like that."

Grell pulled back and blushed sheepishly, despite the situation at hand. William scowled at him again, then his eyes softened minimally, and he sighed and shook his head.

"Alright, alright. Now go and help the others. I can take it from here."

Grell nodded and glanced back at Undertaker, clearly worried. Finally, he stood up, then quickly fell back down with a loud cry, his leg giving out on him. William frowned deeply and readjusted himself, suddenly looking much more concerned.

"Let me see your leg, Grell." He said firmly, his brow furrowing .

Grell stretched out his leg obediently, and William examined the wound with a frown and gentle, speculative fingers. The calf of his left leg had been torn open, and there was some pretty bad damage to it, as it was fairly deep, and still bleeding lightly. Grell winced at the prodding, and William shook his head, exasperated. Grell never failed to baffle him in one way or another.

"How in the hell were you running on this? How were you even _up?"_

Grell shrugged, staring at him as though he should have known the answer, and William rolled his eyes.

"Gods, Grell." He said, shaking his head and resisting the urge to smack him. "Anyway, I wouldn't try the tonic on that if I were you, as it may make your muscles heal incorrectly, and then you'd be in a world of hurt. However, we're really scrapped on staff, so I'm going to break another of my rules because of the situation and let you run around on it. Was it a death scythe or something else that caused this wound?"

"It was that bastard's claws." Grell growled darkly, and William cleared his throat, wisely deciding not to press the issue.

"I'll use the temporary stitches, then." He said simply, opening a second box and rummaging about inside for a second. He pulled out a small metal stick that was coated with rubber, and Grell stared at him questioningly.

"I can't knock you out to sew you up this time." William said grimly. "You'll just have to suffer through it. You'd better bite on this as opposed to your lip, as that would just cause more trouble."

Grell paled at this blunt statement, but he obediently took the stick from William's outstretched hand and gripped it between his teeth, watching William warily as he prepared a fresh sutcher. Grell turned his eyes away as William began to focus on his leg, deciding not to look, lest that make it hurt worse. Besides, he didn't think he'd be able to stand the sight of it.

He bit down hard on the stick when William began, and a muffled cry breached his lips as he felt his skin being pierced and pulled together repeatedly. It hurt like hell, _oh Gods..._

Above, a rousing Ronald sat up, wincing at the pain in his face and gingerly touching the bruises there with his fingertips. He struggled to remember how he'd gotten there and what had happened, and then he remembered Grell's actions, and a massive shudder shook his body. He chanced a look through the bars of the railing, in case the torture wasn't over, and saw to his relief that Grell and William were below, and there was no attacking demon in sight. Instead, William was stitching Grell's leg shut, and Grell was twitching and whining, some sort of grip clamped tightly between his jaws. Beside them, Undertaker lay still, and Ronald noticed a new line of stitches up his back. He frowned deeply at this; Undertaker was ashen gray, and he looked bad, _really _bad, even from high up above. Ronald felt unease rise in his chest, and he looked over at the two demons, wondering how they had fared.

Ciel was free from his butler's again, and was cleansing the last of the blood away from Sebastian's face with one of the butler's own gloves. Sebastian was lying on his back, his head in Ciel's lap, and looking up at his young master with a small, exhausted smirk, and Ciel glowered back down at him, daring him to make comments. However, he wasn't truly angry with Sebastian; just scared out of his mind, and relieved that Sebastian was okay.

"I see you fared well, Young Master." Sebastian rasped hoarsely, chuckling softly as Ciel wiped a bit of blood from his cheek. "You're in far better shape than I am."

"I see the fact that you're in this shape at all as a major problem." Ciel snorted, setting the glove aside and continuing to scowl down at Sebastian.. Sebastian closed his eyes and set his hand against his chest, which was as much of a bow as he could manage right then.

"My deepest apologies, Young Master." He said, slitting his eyes back open like a lazy old cat, as he knew full-well that he wasn't actually in trouble. "I shouldn't have been so careless. I hope you can forgive me."

Ciel's eyes softened, and Ronald's widened as the boy leaned down, until their lips almost touched, and gave the older demon's cheek a light, painless little slap.

"Just don't let it happen again." He said, stroking Sebastian's cheel softly with the back of his hand now, to soothe away whatever pain the halfhearted gesture may have mistakenly caused. Sebastian smirked and closed his eyes, relaxing under the touch, as he felt the cold claws of unconsciousness gripping at him once more.

"Yes, my Lord."

Ronald looked away, pretending he hadn't seen anything, and letting the two have their moment, however odd the affection was between them. Below, William was finishing up with Grell, the last few stitches quickly falling into place. Grell's face was contorted with pain, and the rubber on the small rod had been torn to shreds by his teeth as they clamped and unclamped with every move William made.

"You can go." William said at last, cutting the sutcher away and tying off the stitches with a flick of his wrist. "Just be careful, I'm sure you don't want to have to go through that again. I'll take a better look at your back later, but I think that can wait for now."

Grell spat out the rod, groaning in pain and slowly stumbling to his feet. The stitches pulled and ached as he moved, and he couldn't do much more than limp, but it was better than the gaping, bleeding wound he'd had before. William studied him critically as he took a few shaky steps, and Grell looked back at him, flashing him a brief, weak smile of reassurance that didn't really reach his eyes.

William sighed and rubbed his temples, starting to get the most massive, incredible stress-migraine of his life.

"Now go check on Ronald, then."

"Here!" Ronald called down groggily from the balcony above, and William looked up, relief flashing briefly in his eyes. Ronald stood shakily and peered down at them, only having one eye to do so, as one his right eye was still swollen shut, and showed absolutely no signs of being useable in the near future. He stepped up onto the railing and jumped down, landing with a bad stumble and nearly falling on his face.

"Gods, Ronald." William said when the young Shinigami landed, and he finally saw his face up close and personal. "Come here, you've probably got a crater in your skull with bruises like that!"

Ronald stumbled over to him and sat down hard, swaying dizzily as he did. William raised an eyebrow, sliding closer to him with obvious difficultly, his leg dragging like a dead animal.

Ronald whimpered as William gingerly felt the side of his head, about his cheek, then cried out sharply when he touched a particularly sore spot just behind his temple. William shook his head, and Grell and Ronald stared at him questioningly, Ronald with tears of pain in his eyes.

"Sir?" He asked timidly, getting a massive migraine already from the injury. "How bad is it?"

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised your brain didn't fly out of your skull. It must be larger than I thought." William said dryly. Ronald wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to be offended or grateful, so he just settled with exhausted.

"Don't touch that tonic, Ronald." William said sternly. "It's bound to heal your skull the wrong way, and then I'm going to have to beat you all over again just to reset it. Just do me a favor; do your best to go and help the others, and for the love of all that's sacred, don't go to sleep. You've got quite a concussion, and you'll probably go into a coma and be out for several days. We need all the help we can get right now, so we really can't afford that, okay?" William said, giving Ronald a look to show that he meant business. Ronald nodded, looking sleepy indeed, but determined to follow orders.

Satisfied, William decided it was time to patch himself up. Placing a hand against his injured leg and suppressing a moan of pain as he held it together, He braced a hand against the floor and began to pull himself back. Ronald noticed his leg for the first time, and he paled considerably, staggering to his feet and following after William. He left Grell, who was limping off to help the tiny group of three medics, who were examining the injured and determining whether or not they would be allowed to use the tonic.

"Sir..." Ronald said weakly, sickened by the sight of the horrid injury. William grit his teeth and continued to pull himself back until he was leaning against the wall of the Library, not letting himself show weakness in front of Ronald.

"N-not permanent." He gritted, leaning his head back, pale and panting loudly as he fought with the pain, stars dancing before his eyes. His minor show infuriated him, and he felt himself starting to get a bit irritated with Ronald by defect, as he was more stressed out than words could ever express. "I just broke it, there's no scythe damage. I'll be fine."

"How is that _fine?"_ Ronald cried, obviously very concerned, as he momentarily forgot just who he was talking to. "You're bleeding everywhere and your bone is-"

"Which is why I need you to go help Grell, and let me take care of this." William cut in, giving Ronald a sharp look. "I taught the entire medical crew all they know, Ronald, I know what I'm doing and you, frankly, don't. I appreciate the concern, but you're needed elsewhere, and I'm ordering you to go."

Ronald opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. William was right; he didn't have a clue of what he could do. Besides, he'd just been given orders, and he had no right to disobey, especially not at a time like this. He sighed, frustrated and watching William with careful, worried eyes.

"You sure you're okay, sir?"

William gave him an exasperated look, but underneath it, Ronald could see William had a very faint, fond look in his eyes.

"I'm fine. Now stop dragging your feet and go help the others. We'll start moving the injured up once I'm finished."

Ronald nodded and turned to leave, stumbling a bit as another wave of dizziness hit him.

"Ronald?"

"Yes, sir?" He said, turning around and looking at William critically, thinking William may have changed his mind and now wanted help.

"If you get too dizzy, come back here. Don't overexert yourself with an injury like that."

Ronald smiled weakly, and bowed the slightest amount, wobbling as his skull made a strange grating, swishing noise, and his stomach churned when he heard it.

"Yes, sir."

William watched him as he turned and left, then he took a deep breath and glared down at his own leg.

The next part certainly wasn't going to be fun.

Leaning back against the wall, he examined the damage carefully for the first time. His knee, apparently, had shattered with impact, and he'd be walking with a severe limp for the next week to ten days or so, if he could walk at all tonight. It would hurt like hell growing back, too, but at least it _would _grow back, and he thanked his Shinigami soul for that. His shin bone had broken just below the knee and had been thrust upward as he fell, the jagged, broken edge cutting the skin and jarring the other bones of place as it pushed them up and aside. That was his main problem, and getting the bone back into place was going to be a _bitch._

He closed his eyes and took a sharp breath, placing a hand on the protruding bone and cringing violently as he did so, though he managed to keep his hand in place. This would be a shoddy, amateur job, but it was all he could do in his current predicament. Setting his teeth, he tensed his arms, then pressed down hard and sharp, forcing the offending bone back down.

The bone snapped back into place with a painful grating, and William bit his lip and writhed slightly, tears of agony in his eyes as blinding white pain shot throughout his body, worse than he'd ever known before. Fresh blood ran from the wound and dripped to the floor as he twisted helplessly, holding back a series of sobs. He slammed a fist against the wall stubbornly, squeezing his eyes shut; he wouldn't make a noise, he _refused..._

Slowly, the blinding pain subsided into a sharp, aching throb, and he opened his eyes again, blinking away the tears and breathing deeply and slowly, though his chest screamed in protest at it. His bone was back in place, at least, but now he had to sew the skin and muscle back together, or he was going to fall apart like a scarecrow all over again.

He drew another of the rods from the box and set it between his teeth with grim determination. He gripped it tightly and began threading a third sutcher, his hands trembling with pain and fatigue, and, maybe, with the knowledge of what was to come.

After a minute of struggle, he managed to thread the stitches through, and he began the long, painful process of sewing his own leg back together.

He slipped the sutcher in for the first time, and bit down hard on the rod as agony shot up his leg again and pain radiated throughout his body like a heat wave. He slid the sutcher through the second area of flesh and drew it back into the air, drawing his skin together, mending it as one would a torn jacket.

This continued on for nearly twenty minutes, with William pausing four times as the pain grew more and more unbearable. He was weak from bloodloss, lack of sleep, and stress, and his hands wouldn't stop trembling, both from the fatigue and from pain. All in all, it took twenty stitches to close his wound, and he somehow managed to make no noise, though a stray tear escaped him as he cut the last stitch and tied it off. He swiped it away impatiently, furious with himself, then loosened his grip on the rod and let it fall into his hand, grimacing at the prominent teeth marks there.

"Ronald!" He called, panting and leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes and tossing the rod aside impatiently. "Ronald!"

"Sir!" Ronald answered from across the Library, and William was relieved to hear his rapid footsteps approaching; well, rapid as they could be, for someone who had a cracked skull and one usable eye.

"R-Ronald," William said, further angered by how weak his voice sounded at this point, how it trembled and rasped. "Give me my scythe."

Ronald glanced around, then saw William's death scythe about ten feet away, pressed against the wall where William had dropped it. Ronald tottered over unsteadily, stopping to lean against the wall and catch his breath when he was halfway there. Finally, he reached the scythe and, knowing he couldn't possibly pick it up without falling on his face, he kicked it in William's direction. It was the best he could manage, and he looked at William sheepishly .

William gave him a bit of a look in return, but didn't bother scolding him, knowing the younger Shinigami was feeling like utter shit as it was, and he couldn't help it, anyway. William picked up his death scythe as it skittered to his side, and he started fumbling with his tie, managing to remove it after his fingers slipped and trembled in protest several times. Finally, he pulled it away, then lined his scythe up with his leg, from his ankle to his hip, and began tying it into place at his thigh.

Ronald watched from where he was leaning against the wall, his head hung low and his breathing heavy, like a horse who had been ridden too hard and too fast. Slowly, he limped back to William and knelt beside him, nearly falling into the older Shinigami, making William glance up at him.

Wordlessly, Ronald removed his own tie and began tying the scythe into place around William's calf, stabilizing the lower half of it. He pulled it closed firmly but gently, and the final grip was snug but not painful. William studied him, an unintelligible emotion in his eyes as he finished tying the upper half of the scythe into place. Ronald stood and offered a hand to him, and William took it, marveling at the young Shinigami as, despite his own weakened state, he managed to help William to his feet without complaint, though he was obviously struggling just to stay up. William stood shakily, his leg aching horribly, but now strong enough to hold him with the aid of his makeshift splint. He staggered, but Ronald caught and steadied him, and then kept a grip on his arm to make sure he stayed on his feet.

William took a deep breath, grateful for Ronald's presence, (though, he never would have told him that) then took a first step, pleased when the splint held up. He'd now be able to limp about, and though it wouldn't be glamorous, it would get the job done.

And that's what it was all about.

"Now we're back in business." William said, beginning to limp across the Library to help the others, Ronald still faithfully at his side.


	28. Fits

William limped across the Library, Ronald acting as a voluntary crutch, and approached the group of staff huddled loosely near the center of the Library, his usual proud, calm air in place, despite the entire crisis at hand. Grell was a little off to the side, among the medics, and he had, thankfully, wiped his face and hands clean of blood before starting to help the wounded. Ronald looked a little nervous as they approached Grell, though, as the redhead's clothes were in much worse shape, and were still soaked and spattered with gore. But, Grell smiled weakly at them when they arrived, and Ronald returned the smile as best as his injured face would allow, relieved; at least Grell was back to normal.

Well, as normal as Grell _could _be, especially at a time like this.

The cluster of medical staff was down to a mere three members, excluding Grell, the other five either dead or too injured to be of use; William wasn't sure which, but he desperately hoped for the latter. There were too many injured and too few staff as it was, and he really didn't like the thought of any of his staff being dead, anyway, regardless of who they were. It upset him greatly to think of his creations lying out there amongst the scattered bodies, but, for his sake and the sake of everyone around him, he kept a stoic, calm face as he stood before the diminished team of medics, leaning against Ronald slightly for support.

"I need you all to come with me." He said evenly, two-toned eyes flicking between the three staff. "You too, Sutcliff. We're making those with life-threatening injuries top priority right now, and Undertaker is on the top of that list. He's the worst I've seen and probably the worst all together, and he needs help now."

The medical staff all nodded grimly, all of them having seen the tail-end of the battle, and William saw Grell look down and away, trembling slightly at the memory. The four of them obviously understood that this wasn't personal bias; Undertaker really _was _the worst off, regardless of his status as a legend. Any lesser Shinigami probably would have been dead in his place, and he was only barely hanging on now, anyway.

"We'll take care of him first. Meanwhile," He said, raising his eyes and his voice in order to address the rest of them. "I want the rest of you to continue handing out tonic; get as many people on their feet as possible, because we need all the help we can get. Help the injured upstairs if you can, and get anyone who has a wound you'd consider life-threatening upstairs on a stretcher ASAP. This is no time to drag your feet-pardon the irony of me saying that-so get going!"

"Yes, sir!" Twenty seven voices answered, and twenty two ran off to do as they were told. The remaining five followed (or, in Ronald's case, helped) William as he limped back to Undertaker. The medical were planning, and talking urgently and quietly among themselves; all except for Grell, who followed the other three in numb silence. His eyes were dull and his jaw was set, and anyone who knew him-or had working eyes and a brain to use them-would know that he was in the midst of emotional turmoil.

"Go ahead without me." William said quietly but firmly as he turned suddenly and headed for the stairs, sparing Grell a small, worried look. "Be very, _very _careful with him. I'll be in the infirmary, and I'll be waiting. Do hurry."

Ronald looked up at him questioningly as they reached the first step, and William nodded briskly at him, silently confirming that yes, yes he _would _need help up the stairs, thank you very much.

He took a deep breath, preparing for more pain, with Ronald still hugging his arm and making sure he didn't fall (he was also using William as a bit of a counterbalance, as William had kept the blond from toppling over a few times now, as well). He placed his good leg on the first step, and dragged his injured foot up after it. Ronald climbed up with him, being very careful to keep the same pace as William and not pressure him into moving too fast, or stress him further by going too slow. They climbed the stairs this way, with Ronald steadying him whenever he stumbled, and William pausing to allow the two of them to take a quick break every few stairs, as Ronald was feeling horribly lightheaded, and his chest was annoyingly painful, which made him short of breath, anyway.

Finally, after nearly five minutes of climbing, they breached the top of the huge staircase. It was infuriating for William to have to go so slow, as he normally could have been at the top in two seconds and with a single bound if he needed to be, and they were wasting precious time by moving like snails. However, if he had been foolish enough to jump in this state, he could have barely made it a foot off the ground, and for a Shinigami, that was absolutely pitiful. Being in this state of weakness pissed William off all the more, with every passing second, and Ronald could feel his stress and agitation as the muscles in his arm flexed and locked with tension with every move he made.

Ronald was panting slightly when they finally reached the second floor, and now William found that he was the one holding _him _up as the blond began to sway like a blade of grass in a prairie wind. He glanced down at his companion, brow furrowing slightly, and Ronald looked back up at him with a pained, shaky smile, despite the fact that he was clutching at his head as much as the extreme soreness would allow.

"Just dizzy..." He mumbled, taking a deep breath and pulling slightly away from William, no longer leaning on him quite so much, as he didn't want to disturb his superior any further. "I'm fine."

William stared at him skeptically for a second, then glanced over his shoulder to check the progress of the team below. The mismatched crew had managed to get Undertaker on a stretcher, and he was laying face-down on it, completely motionless, blood shimmering on his back as the light reflected off of it. It disturbed William to look and see his friend in such a way, but he guessed that Undertaker wouldn't be mishandled and was in steady hands, as Grell was watching the rest of the team like a hawk; a blood-soaked hawk who had just committed a very violent, very _public_ murder.

Needless to say, the team was being _very _careful.

"Let's go, then." William said softly down to Ronald, limping toward the infirmary. He slowed slightly in order to allow Ronald to catch his breath, but the younger Shinigami was so dizzy that he hardly noticed the break William was giving him, as he could only think about one thing; they had to move, and despite his own bad condition, Undertaker's was worse, and they had to put him first.

He had to hurry. He couldn't let William down.

Finally, after a few more agonizingly slow minutes slipped by, the two reached the infirmary door, Ronald's breathing worsening as they went as he struggled to keep his feet under him. William looked down at him, then looked back again to see the crew just breaching the stairs with their precious cargo. They were moving at about the same rate William and Ronald had been, slow and steady, but they sped up slightly when they reached the top of the stairs, and William was grateful for this. They were able to move faster on stable ground, and they reached the infirmary in under a minute.

"Stay out here, Ronald." William said quietly, tugging his arm from Ronald's grip when the team finally arrived. They carefully carried Undertaker through the infirmary door when William opened it to accommodate the group, his eyes flashing with an unintelligible emotion as he watched Undertaker's limp form go past. William turned to follow. his hand on the doorframe as he looked back at the woozy blond. "I'll be sending Sutcliff out momentarily. I've got a lot of work ahead of me, and the infirmary will be crowded enough as it is. Nothing personal, but we don't need you two in the way. Please stay out here until we can find a place for the two of you, as I'd like to keep an eye on you, and I can't do that if you go back to your rooms.

Ronald nodded, sitting down several feet from the door and leaning against the wall obediently. He didn't mind the order, as he didn't think he could stand the sight of surgery after Grell's outburst, anyway, nor did he believe that he could possibly make it to his room, either.

"Understood, sir." He said groggily, carefully leaning his head back against the cool wall and closing his eye with a wince. "I'd hate to be a bother. Good luck in there."

"Thank you, Ronald."

Ronald felt gloved fingers faintly brush his uninjured cheek for the briefest second, but when he looked up, William's lame leg was just dragging itself inside the door, which promptly closed behind him. He blinked dolefully, touching a hand to his cheek and wondering if he'd imagined it, and he found himself hoping that he hadn't. Still, it seemed William had been pretty tense around him since his little "show", and he had been even quieter than usual. Ronald couldn't help but think that he'd angered the older Shinigami in some way, even if William _had _held his hand just before the battle, and he got more and more confused every time he saw he saw his dark-haired superior.

Ronald glanced up when Grell came out of the infirmary a minute later, his eyes misty and downcast. He glanced at Ronald, seeming to look right through him, then sat down next to his battered companion with a quiet sigh.

"William said to give you this." Grell said weakly, handing Ronald an ice pack. Ronald blinked, then nodded his thanks to Grell, taking it and setting it against his wounded cheek with a small sigh of relief. A nausea that he hadn't even noticed seemed to subside a little from the cool touch, and his pounding, throbbing headache relaxed just the faintest amount.

"Are you okay, Grell?" Ronald asked gently, opening his eye and laying a hesitant hand on Grell's sticky, blood-soaked shoulder. He was still slightly scared of Grell right then, but Grell was still his friend, and he didn't like to see friends hurting; not at_ all. _Besides, it seemed as though Grell's temper had burnt out into a depression, meaning that not only was he safe to approach, but that he _wanted_ some company.

He hadn't changed after the Jack the Ripper incident (save for the fact that he had acquired a newfound hatred for prostitutes), Ronald's tired mind reasoned. Why would he be any different now?

This settled his racing thoughts, and he relaxed his worries, his slender, practiced fingers gently massaging Grell's shoulder, proving that Grell still had Ronald's loyalty and, of course, his admiration. Afterall, Ronald didn't know another single soul who could take on a demon like Resmodus and have such a massive victory; Grell was exclusive in that right.

Grell glanced at him, then looked back down, his voice small and frightened. Ronald frowned slightly, his hand ceasing to move as worry stole back over him like a shadow.

"I don't know." Grell whispered. "I don't know."

000

For the next several long, painful hours, they waited.

After the medical staff had, apparently, dropped off Undertaker, they exited the room and began bringing up the rest of the severely injured. The pace was tedious, and the wait seemed to extend even more as Ronald and Grell watched the staff move back and forth. William, apparently, was giving poor Grell a break; specifically, he had actually asked both of them-and many other Shinigami-to stay still and remain in the hall outside the infirmary, as he said that they were too injured for him to let them run around with a clear conscience. The medical team had found a fourth member, and were doing just fine without anyone else getting in the way, anyway.

Ronald and Grell spoke very little, and the night slipped by silently, time still moving on despite the crisis that had taken place hours before. It truly stopped for no man... or Shinigami.

Ronald's ice pack melted away in about two hours, and once it was no more than a useless bag of water, Ronald set it aside without a word. His pain slowly began to mount back up and grow as the soothing chill left his face. The nausea came back with a vengeance, definitely making itself known now, as Ronald's stomach began to churn, and the room began to sway as Ronald was struck with a sudden, horrible vertigo sensation. Ronald's aching skull seemed to beg for another ice pack, but he simply dropped his head and closed his eyes, refusing to go back in and bother William. William was in over his head with much more serious work, and it would be so unfair of Ronald to go in and complain of a sore head when there were Shinigami in there with so much worse. No, Ronald could tough it out, and he damn sure would, just so William could focus on what needed to be done.

"Pain is only temporary," He mumbled to himself, causing Grell to glance over at him, a bit of worry sparking his eyes. "I can handle it."

Afterall, it's what William would have done.

The wall that Grell and Ronald were leaning against gradually filled up with fellow Shinigami who, like Grell and Ronald, were in need of medical aid, but weren't injured enough to be admitted in first. They talked quietly and grimly among themselves; a few were crying softly on the shoulders of friends, while others simply stared at the floor, silently hoping for the injured, the missing, and mourning the ones they knew were lost.

Finally, at perhaps four or five in the morning, when many of the other Shinigami had fallen asleep, the door to the infirmary opened a final time, and a very tired looking William limped out. There was a proper splint and dressing on his leg now (the leg of his slacks had been torn away to make room for it, and the white bandages twined from his ankle to mid-thigh, where what remained of the leg of his trousers covered the rest of his skin) and he was leaning heavily on a crutch, a clipboard in his free hand in place of the usual scythe.

Ronald and Grell couldn't sleep in the slightest, as they were both waiting for further orders, and wanted to help William in any way they could, as it would help them get their minds off of their current plight. Besides, Grell couldn't have slept if he'd drugged himself, as Undertaker was the only thing he could think about, and Ronald's now-monstrous migraine drove all hopes of rest away. The two were wide awake, and William noticed immediately, as the two looked sharply up at him as soon as the door opened.

"Sutcliff, Knox, you can come in." He said, his weary eyes flicking over them. "Wake up Clifford and Ross and tell them to come in with you, I can see them next." He said, motioning toward a black-haired young male in the corner, who was holding onto a copper-haired young woman. Both were fast asleep and covered in deep gashes, some of which were still dribbling blood, suggesting that they were most likely scythe-inflicted.

"I'll get them, Grell, you go ahead. I'll be in in a minute." Ronald said softly, patting Grell's shoulder and stumbling to his feet. Grell blinked at him, then somehow managed a tiny, grateful smile and stood up as well, turning and limping into the infirmary. William shifted slightly, allowing him to pass, and Grell walked inside, glancing around and trying to find Undertaker's bed, his heart hammering with anxiety.

Finally, his eyes caught sight of a familiar old tophat sitting on a bedside table, and the occupant of the bed next to it had unmistakable, fine silver hair. He was lying face down, the white, starchy covers drawn up and hiding the extent of his injuries from prying eyes. Grell swallowed a lump in his throat and grabbed a chair as he moved across the room, picking it up and trying to be silent, so as not to wake any of the other critical patients that might have been sleeping. He carried the chair over and gently set it down next to Undertaker's bed, sitting down and examining Undertaker's face with worried eyes.

His bangs had been cut away by the same blow that had taken his stitches out, and his eyes were closed, his fine silver lashes fluttering slightly as whatever fitful dreams that crossed his coma played before him. His skin was ashen from bloodloss and fatigue, and the blanket moved very little as his slow, labored breathing continued to fight on, despite the fact that it sounded like they might falter and die at any second; which was a very real possibility. A new row of stitches-covered in clean, soft white padding for the time being, including his eye, which had a bit of padding kept in place by some bandages wrapped around his head-sealed his face back together, and Grell could see now that the old wound had not only been opened, but extended, as it reached a half-inch farther past his eye than it had before.

Grell reached over slowly and with a trembling hand, his eyes cloudy with tears, and searched for Undertaker's hand beneath the covers. Being very cautious, he flinched nervously as his fingers grazed across even more fresh bandages, thicker than they should have been, and he realized with a whimper that Undertaker's left side had also been injured. That meant he had two, perhaps three new sets of stitches, and the worst of them all was entirely Grell's fault.

"You poor thing..." Grell whispered, voice husky with tears as he finally found his limp, eerily cold hand beneath the sheets and squeezed it gently, his heart breaking all over again when Undertaker made no response. "My love, I'm so sorry..."

He leaned his head carefully against Undertaker's pillow, being very careful not to touch his wounded face. Closing his eyes and choking back tears as he felt Undertaker's faint, slow breath on his cheek, he felt another sob build up in his chest. It was all his fault, _all _of this. Undertaker wouldn't be fighting for his life right now if Grell had wizened up and watched his back. He wouldn't have such slim chances of survival if Grell weren't such a damned fool. He could be up instead, working with the rest of them and giving William the chance to take a break, or helping to soothe the injured, or do what he did best; prepare the dead for their final resting places.

Most importantly, he could have been by Grell's side.

But he wasn't, and the painful irony of it was that it was all Grell's fault.

"You fucking idiot, Grell..." He whimpered to himself, choking on his tears. "Look what you've done. Look what you've _done..."_

Silent, heavy tears flowed rapidly down his face, and he closed his eyes tightly, clenching his teeth and fighting to stay silent. He couldn't wake the others, he just couldn't. He couldn't be more of a problem for William than what he already was.

He jerked upright, startled, when there was a short, sharp scream of alarm from outside the infirmary door. Grell glanced down at Undertaker, hesitant to leave him, then stood up swiftly when there was another, louder scream, rubbing tears from his eyes as he started for the door to investigate, his heart hammering as he imagined what terrors lay waiting outside.

_"Sutcliff!"_ William yelled, and Grell hurried across the room with twice the urgency, wincing as the stitches in his leg pulled angrily. What the _hell?_ Did he fuck up on something else? Was there another attack? Oh, please Gods, _no, _they couldn't take any more...

Heart pounding, he pushed open the infirmary door, and was horrified by what he saw outside.

Ronald had, apparently, collapsed, and he was in the throws of a massive, violent seizure. His eyes were rolled back in his head as his body spasmed and jolted at rough, erratic intervals, his body contorted into bizarre, horrifying ways that made Grell pale and take in a sharp breath, his hand slapping over his mouth to hold back a scream of his own. There was a bit of foam on Ronald's lips, and the injured Shinigami around him had backed away, all of them in some state of fear. Some were simply staring, too stunned to react, others were having full-blown panic attacks, wailing and shaking and clinging to those around them like frightened children. That only made the horrific scene worse, and Grell thought he would be sick.

William somehow seemed worse off than the panicking Shinigami around him, as he had fallen to the floor beside Ronald, despite his broken leg, and was now trying to hold the thrashing young man down as he waited desperately for the seizure to pass. His teeth were set in a tight grimace of fear and pain, and his eyes were wide with shock at what had just happened before him so abruptly. Grell had never seen so much emotion on his face, and that unnerved him greatly, somehow even more than everything else going on. William shouted for him again, making him jump and wrench his eyes from their horrified staring at Ronald, his heart slamming in his throat.

_"Get over here!" _William snarled with a ferocity that could have made the Gods themselves obey. Grunting in pain as Ronald kicked his wounded leg, he readjusted his grip and struggled to hold him down, so that the young Shinigami wouldn't injure himself further. Grell quickly hurried over and knelt on the other side of Ronald, despite the agony tearing up his leg, and placed his hands against his chest and tried his best to hold him down. With their combined restraint, Ronald's violent thrashes were somewhat subdued, but William didn't look any less horrified.

He and William stayed like that for what seemed to be an eternity. However, it was much less than that; in reality, it wasn't even a minute. Slowly, Ronald's violent fit slowed, then calmed to a mere weak, spastic twitching of his limbs as quiet, nonsensical mumbles left his lips. William, his face pale and drawn, slowly let go of the boy's shoulders, his hands trembling violently as he pulled away. Grell did the same, and William looked up at him, his voice hoarse with shock as he spoke, his eyes bright with fear.

"G-get him inside."

Grell nodded blindly, feeling hollow with shock and terror as he gingerly scooped his best friend up, staggering a bit under the added weight. The nerves of his leg shrieked in protest, but he ignored it and carried Ronald inside, too concerned over the terrible surprise to worry about his own safety anymore.

He thought he heard a tiny, weak noise from William as he passed, but he couldn't be sure.

And he hoped he was wrong.

Because he couldn't handle any more.

xxx

If you must know, lovelies, the story has awhile yet before it ends. XD We still have many lemons we need to cover.

Speaking of which, I read over the comments. WillxRon is popular, and obviously GrellxUndertaker. Is there anyone who'd like to see some CielxSebastian? I'm not a big fan of shota, but I'll make an exception for you guys, if you'd like.

Thanks for all the reviews!


	29. Good for Nothing

Okay, so, after reading the reviews, I don't think I'll do a CielxSebastian smut scene, but I'll probably throw in a little fluff between them and leave it at that, so everyone's happy. There's always future stories, you know? :P Besides, it would be a little squicky for me to write that, lol. I'm definitely not a big shota fan

xxx

Grell carried Ronald in as quickly as he could manage, and found to his immense surprise-and definitely relief-that the last empty bed was to the left of Undertaker's, meaning Grell was already seated in the middle of the two without even trying. Thanking the Gods, Grell carefully set Ronald down, unsure of whether he should stay there with his still-twitching friend, or if he should go help his crippled boss instead. It was quite a predicament, really.

His question was answered for him, however, when there was a loud thunk outside, the suppressed shouts of a certain Head-of-Shinigami as he was painfully pulled back to his feet, and then the sound of William's crutch against the floor as he thunked forward, still muttering curses of pain under his breath. Grell looked back at a very pale, drawn-faced William as the door shrieked closed behind him, and he shifted nervously, cringing when he noticed a new bloodstain forming on the bandages around William's knee.

William ignored him, however, and limped to Ronald as quickly as he could, setting down his clipboard on a bedside table next to Undertaker's hat as he approached. Grell glanced at it, and he realized that it was an attendance list that was usually filled out daily; however, William had scrawled out the "absent" "excused" and "present" columns, and had replaced them with something much more unnerving; "missing" "dead" and "injured". Grell looked away, not wishing to stare at it, in case he saw something he'd regret; like one of his few friends under "dead."

William reached the bedside and leaned against the wall for support. The headboard of the bed was pressed against the wall, and he peered down at Ronald with a furrowed brow, able to get a good look at him from his post. To be honest, he normally would have used his chair, but getting up and down with his leg was too much trouble, and on such a busy schedule, he couldn't be bothered, nor could he afford to waste the extra time, anyway.

Ronald was mumbling a muffled, weak string of incoherent, slurred words. His eyes were glazed and darting about as his mind slowly came back online, and he started to become aware of himself and his surroundings once more. He shuddered suddenly, and William came closer, examining him carefully and swallowing up Ronald's slowly-growing field of vision.

Grell bit his lip hard, not even noticing when the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth and a small drop of blood dribbled down his chin. Ronald really didn't look good, and all that thrashing couldn't have possibly helped his condition in the slightest. He was making odd, low clicking noises as he tried to speak, and William wiped the foam away from his mouth with a handkerchief drawn from his jacket, biting the inside of his lip himself. Seizures were definitely _not _a good sign, and he couldn't help but to be both confused and angry. Why the _hell _hadn't Ronald come to him? This could have easily been avoided if the kid weren't being so proud...

Slowly, Ronald's eyes began to clear, and he let out a low groan of pain as a massive migraine hit him, a migraine worse than he'd ever had before. He closed his eye tightly, waiting for the throbbing to pass, but it only seemed to grow worse at the movement, and continued to build in intensity with every passing second. His limbs felt weak, and his stomach queasy as nausea, so bad it was painful, stole over him once again, and he was glad he hadn't eaten anything in the last day. He dared to crack his eye back open, and the room instantly began to spin like mad.

"Ronald?" Two voices asked from above, one sounding near-tears and almost frantic, the other strained and exhausted. Both were familiar, and when his stuttering mind finally realized that William and Grell were speaking, he became very worried. What was wrong...?

"Hnn?" Ronald asked dazedly, clumsily propping himself up on one elbow and trying to sit up. The material beneath him was springy, slightly soft, slightly starchy, firm... What the hell?

A _bed?_

What the hell was he doing in a bed? He was supposed to be out in the hallway, waiting to help William and making sure the others were okay, not snoozing on a bed when injured Shinigami could use it much more.

He was still puzzling this over and almost in a sitting position when a pair of firm hands pressed against his chest and forced him back, a little bit more roughly than necessary. He grunted and tried to squirm away in protest, but his head began throbbing worse than before, and he went still with a whimper of pain, closing his eye and trying to get the room to stop moving.

"You _will _stay down, or I'll give you that tonic just to have the excuse to smack that black dye straight out of your hair." William's stern voice growled from above, and Ronald opened his eye again, shocked and confused by the order. He stared at William like he was insane, his mind reeling as it ran over the possibilities of what was going on and why William wanted him to use up precious space, and why he sounded so upset. Finally, he settled with what made sense; he'd woken up on a bed with his boss pinning him down, he couldn't remember a thing, and so what he was about to say was entirely justified.

"With all due respect, sir, am I about to get raped?"

A manic, tittering giggle exploded forth from Grell, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as William shot him a withering glare. He couldn't help it; Ronald had said it with such a straight face, and the same quizzical, lightly curious voice he would have used if he were inquiring about the weather. To top it off, he didn't look frightened in the slightest; he looked more intrigued than anything, as his eyebrow was as raised as his bruised face would allow. Even after what had just happened, Ronald was still as easy-going as ever, and Grell couldn't help but find his reactions funny; as usual. No wonder they got along so well.

William turned the glare on back Ronald, obviously not nearly as tickled as Grell was. In fact, he looked down-right _furious, _if a little pale.

"Absolutely not, Knox." William said with a scowl, pulling his hands away from his chest, and somehow successfully hiding the fact that they were still trembling. "You probably don't remember, as is to be expected, but you just collapsed and had a massive seizure in the middle of the hallway. Quite frankly, I'm wondering why you didn't have the sense to come and talk to me _before _it happened, because there's absolutely no way in hell you didn't feel it coming on." William gritted, continuing to glare down at a startled, confused looking Ronald. "Headaches, nausea, vertigo, is any of this ringing a bell? You're not epileptic, you had warnings."

"Yes, but-" Ronald began, but was silenced when William's glare intensified and his voice cut across Ronald's sharply, causing Ronald to flinch as though he'd been struck.

"You're obviously unaware of how severe this is, as you're playing games with your health. I don't care if you're a Shinigami, and I wouldn't care if you were one of the Gods themselves; that's stupid, Ronald, and it's never a good idea, no matter _what _you are." He said, his eyes hard and unforgiving as Ronald stared back at him helplessly, with no chance to get a word in edgewise.

"If you want the brief explanation that even your puny mind could understand, your brain is swelling, and that ice pack was the only thing keeping it down. When you got rid of it and didn't even bother coming to me for a new one, your brain did something miraculous; it actually _grew _for once, instead of shrinking further in the presence of bad influences," He said, shooting a sharp look in Grell's direction, and receiving a look that said _What the hell did I do! _He flicked his flint-like eyes back to Ronald, who was not looking indignant like Grell, but instead, ashamed. "Therefore, you started flopping about like a fish out of water and scared the living hell out of a bunch of already panicked Shinigami, including-"

William stopped abruptly, checking himself with a sharp blink of his eyes, then shook his head with obvious irritation. Whether it was with himself or with the two before him, Ronald couldn't tell, but either way, it hurt to see him do that. Grell was looking between them, all laughter gone and replaced with a solemn, sheepish silence. Ronald's humble and broken expression said it all; William's words had struck a particularly soft spot on Ronald's emotional well-being, and dammit, it _hurt._

"Regardless, Knox, you're staying in that bed until I give you the all-clear, and you may as well tape a bag of ice to your head until then, because I don't want you to go longer than an hour without some sort of cold compress. Sutcliff, make sure he's got a constant supply, or you'll be in a world of hurt. as well." William said, briefly flicking his scowl to Grell, who nodded and quickly looked down, knowing not to test William at such a time. Even _he _wasn't that stupid.

He turned his glare back to Ronald, who shrank back, staring at the floor submissively, his body language simply begging for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I-"

"I don't want excuses." William said bluntly, his voice still tight and angry. Turning and limping to a cupboard, and leaving a very upset Ronald staring after him, William closed his eyes tightly and took in a deep breath through his nose, trying to regain a few shreds of patience. William ignored the feeling of Ronald's gaze on his back with some difficulty, and he opened his eyes and tucked his crutch under one arm, opening the cupboard and rifling around inside before pulling out a small bottle that rattled with pills. He closed the cupboard door and limped back toward the two, ignoring Ronald's downtrodden staring at the sheets on the bed.

He leaned against the wall once more and opened the bottle, dumping two pills into his hand and furrowing his brow as Ronald's hurt silence continued. Wordlessly, he closed the bottle, then took one pill between two gloved fingers and pressed it to Ronald's lips gently, so as not to cause him further discomfort by irritating his injuries. Ronald blinked and looked up at him, his one eye searching William's face and finding no emotion. He looked back down quickly, then took the pill obediently between his teeth, his feelings somehow twice as bruised at William's apparent nonchalance. It wasn't a very large pill, so he managed to swallow it fairly easily before William offered him the second, his face still stoic and careless.

"They'll help with some of the pain and swelling." He said, no emotion in his voice as he set the bottle down on the bedside table, next to his clipboard, and watched Ronald swallow the second pill with a careful eye. "Take two every four hours until I tell you to stop. Sutcliff, you're in charge of that, too. Don't screw it up."

Grell nodded obediently, pulling his rose-colored pocketwatch and checking the time, making a mental note as he turned the watch over and wound it back up carefully. It was now 5:30 in the morning, and the sun would be up soon, and high in the sky by the time Ronald needed his next dose. Hopefully, he'd remember with such an obvious reminder, as William would push him down a flight of stairs if Ronald ended up seizing again.

"And for the love of the Gods," William growled as he limped back toward the door, his crutch still thunking loudly against the floor as he hobbled like an old man. "If you start feeling ill again, _call me._ Put your two-halves of a brain together and at least _try _to come up with a coherent thought." He said, opening the door again, and scowling back at them.

"Yes, Sir." Ronald answered meekly, staring dejectedly at the sheets and purposefully avoiding William's eyes. William stared at him for a second, his eyes flickering with some sort of emotion, an emotion that was unrecognizable from across the room. Then he opened the door and thunked out, calling for the next two Shinigami he was willing to see, his voice losing it's angry edge and becoming simply tired once more.

Grell shot a worried look in Ronald's direction when William finally left, and his suspicions were confirmed when Ronald glanced back at him, then promptly rolled over onto his side, his back to Grell.

Yeah, he was smarting.

Grell sighed softly, feeling torn once more. Glancing back at Undertaker to make sure he was still breathing, Grell felt as though he was suddenly no longer the one plucking strings to get on everyone's nerves, but was, instead, the thread holding everyone together.

It was... unsettling.

Satisfied for the time being when he saw Undertaker's continued, if sluggish, breathing, he got up and walked to the icebox across the room. Grabbing a nearby baggie and opening the door to the icebox, he began scooping several large bits of ice out and sliding them into the bag, thinking about what he could possibly say to Ronnie. He closed the icebox, approaching Ronald cautiously, still not quite knowing to say, but knowing he had a vague idea, even if he didn't know how to put it into words.

"Ronald?" He asked softly, walking around the bed and crouching next to it, forcing Ronald to look at him, if only for a moment.

Ronald had his eyes closed, and his good eye slid open slowly, studying Grell's concerned expression attentively. Trying to hide the pain he was in, Ronald frowned slightly, his eye flickering with sadness. Grell frowned back and laid a sympathetic hand on Ronald's shoulder, setting the ice by his side in an encouraging, but not forceful, gesture for Ronald to take William's advice.

"He's furious." Ronald said bleakly, slowly closing his eye again and ignoring the ice. "As if he didn't have enough to deal with..."

"He's just worried." Grell said with a comforting pat of Ronald's shoulder, though he himself sounded unsure, and maybe even a little insecure, like Ronald. He often got the feeling William despised him, even though, deep down, he knew it wasn't true... even if it was hard to believe sometimes.

"No, he's pissed all to hell, and once again I'm the cause of it." Ronald said, a little more forcefully, and Grell realized with a stab of sorrow that Ronald fervently meant was he was saying. "I swear, I can never get on his good side. I try, I really do, but it's just... I don't _know._ I think I'm hopeless when it comes to being useful."

Grell couldn't help but let a small, fragile smile slip across his face, and Ronald opened his eye, giving Grell a bit of an indignant, sour look.

"Care to share the joke?"

"He's like that with _everyone,_ Ronnie, don't worry, and _don't_ take it so personally. I swear, with that man, the worse he treats you, the fonder of you he actually is." Grell's face split into a grin. "He must simply _adore _us, don't you think?"

That did the trick, as Ronald's mouth finally tugged up into a small, tired smile, and Grell smiled back earnestly, glad to finally see him cheering up a bit. However, Ronald's smile quickly faded, and Grell's followed suit, disappointment crossing his features.

"...I really do think he's worried." Grell mumbled, looking saddened as that same bleak look crossed Ronald's eyes. Obviously, Ronald was still taking all the fault of the situation, and was being hard on himself because of it.

Again.

"He's worried about everyone, Grell. I'm just making it worse on him by being stupid, really. He's totally right about everything he said." Ronald said softly, finally taking the ice pack and holding it against his face, as the pain was too much for him to resist anymore, and he didn't want to be a problem.

"But it's okay. I'll just try again next time. I'll get it right eventually..."

Grell didn't know what else to say, as everything that ran through his head sounded either too harsh or ridiculously sugarcoated. But, it didn't really matter, as Ronald didn't seem to be expecting an answer, as he closed his eyes again with a weary sigh. Grell patted his shoulder once more and stood, looking regretful as he walked back to his chair and took his place between the beds-and next to Undertaker once more-too exhausted to think about how to fix the problem.

He leaned his head against Undertaker's pillow once more without thinking twice about it, his own eyes sliding shut immediately. He hadn't realized just how tired he was, but now that his head was on a pillow, however, his eyelids felt like they were made of brick, and he couldn't keep them open if he tried. He nuzzled into the pillow, feeling the comforting brush of Undertaker's cool, slow breath on his cheek. Silently, he reached up and ran his fingers across his lover's face, being careful to avoid his bandages, which his fingers danced around gracefully, already knowing where the scars were by heart. Stroking lightly, carefully with his fingertips, he began to hum the same lullaby Undertaker had hummed to him before, causing a thick feeling of sorrow to form in throat and soothing himself to sleep with the bittersweet memory at the same time... though the later was an unintentional side effect.

He'd been trying to keep himself awake.

Ronald, too, was affected by the eerily beautiful tune, and he felt his tense body relax as the slow, dark, and yet restful notes swept over him, entrancing his weary mind into the realm of sleep, his tense muscles slowly unraveling. With this and the influence of the medicine, he rapidly drifted into unconsciousness; a kind William would have approved of.

Gradually, Grell fell into a slumber as well, and his humming slowly slipped away, the final note hanging in the air like a last bead of dew on a grass blade before the sun dries it away. Grell did not dream, and his sleep was deep and, for once, restful, even though he would have been panicking if he realized the mistake he just made.

Because Undertaker wasn't nearly as fortunate.

xxx

I kept thinking of William as a sort of Doctor House in this chapter. XD Watch out, Hugh Laurie, you've got competition!

Sorry for not updating yesterday, guys. I went to post and apparently fanfiction had crashed. 0.o and It was late, so I just went to bed, lol.


	30. The Silence of the Gods

While he lay, trapped in the thick, heavy folds of his coma, with his sleeping lover at his side, Undertaker was hearing voices.

It started out as nothing that he wasn't used to, but as, deep in his coma, his unconscious mind heard the sound grow steadily louder, then that of knocking, a door was, literally, opened.

The sound of static-ridden mumble immediately washed over him, loud and distinct, and yet unclear and unintelligible. His consciousness, his sense of self and being, the thing inside every human's mind that puts them above animals and allows them to plan and think of others and about the future, stepped through that mental door. In Reality, his body somehow got even more still and silent, to the point where he was taking a breath maybe once every ten seconds, as though he were in hibernation. His eyes took on a strange, ethereal green glow behind his lids, but otherwise, nothing changed.

_We're disappointed._

The sound, the sound finally took shape and formed words instead of just the typical white noise of voices that was always in the back of his head, like a static TV that couldn't be shut off. Normally, he could manage to tune it out without too much trouble, and whenever he _did _try to communicate with Them, all he could hear was the humming of the voices of the thousands of silent Gods who always seemed to refuse to answer him. Yes, Gods who never answered prayers, even from Wires, who only asked you to speak when you were spoken to, who used the Universe itself as their game board...

_We're disappointed._

Ah, yes. They were. He could tell. As their combined voices transmitted to him from the stars themselves, their feelings came with them; anger, indigence, irritation... but not surprise.

No, they had known, that was for sure. They had known, but as usual, they couldn't even tell the Wires what was to come (not in plain English, at least), because it broke their laws. Undertaker had always found that a tad ridiculous; wasn't that the point of having Wires, afterall? Last he recalled, psychics weren't around to ignore, taunt, and chastise their paying customers, but not tell them what was to come, were they? No, they weren't, but that was exactly how the Gods operated, and it irritated him to no end. However, there was nothing he could do about it. Not. A. Thing.

Undertaker guessed that the Gods were the reason that authority had left a bad taste in his mouth; it was always _his _fault when something went wrong, just because he was a Wire (and, currently, the only one in existence, to boot), but if he should do anything right, then praise the Gods! Praise the Gods who'd given him the power and ability to do something correctly! Praise them though they wouldn't even give him the time of day because of a law _their house _(AKA the Universe)made up!

He found it to be utter _bullshit._

But, of course, he kept his mouth shut, because even if he hated authority, one does not fuck with the Masters of the Universe, and call oneself a wise man.

"I'm not surprised." His mind responded coolly to their condescending murmur, finally deciding that he might as well get the scolding over with. He wasn't actually speaking aloud; their conversation was purely telepathic. For the time being, one mind was connected to many, and the exchange of information was as simple of thinking of what you wanted to say and passing it along to the other party. This was what being a Wire meant; being able to speak to the Gods with your mind.

However, it was usually the Gods who came to _you, _because they were always too preoccupied with the matter of handling Time and Space to even spare your insistent knocking a second thought.

_Nor are we. We were hoping for a different outcome. Yet, here is the last of the Wires, on his deathbed. Did we not treat you well? Give you the ability to fight? Pitiful. And to think, it ended the same as last time. We were really disappointed with the show you gave us, reaper. To see that you haven't learned from other's mistakes really says something about your intelligence._

Mentally, Undertaker rolled his eyes.

"I won't die." He thought back matter-of-factly. And he didn't think he would; he had William, who was hell-bent on saving him, and what seemed to be the luckiest damn tophat in existence. Besides, he also had someone to look forward to awakening to. He couldn't _not _come back.

_Don't be so sure. Do you feel that, little reaper? That's your Life Force draining._

Oh, _shit._

He couldn't have just felt himself stop breathing. He couldn't have.

No.

But, indeed, outside of his mind, the long, cold body next to Grell had stopped breathing entirely, and his heart came to a shuddering stop.

But, _but..._

They couldn't be right, they couldn't be. His mind came to a screeching halt as the door, a small, brown door that was usually locked up in the back of his mind, in the back of his consciousness, disappeared. Normally, he could hear their voices in his head as they penetrated the thin barrier of the door and carried into his mind, but the door muffled them so that he couldn't make out words, just a muffled humming, a constant static. If he wished, he could force himself into unconsciousness and knock on that door to try and get an answer so he could speak with the Gods, and he'd done it a few times out of boredom and curiosity. Normally, the door would remain locked as the Gods ignored him; he'd never _actually _gotten through to them by trying to start a conversation, but before the first war, a few other Shinigami had, so he knew it was possible. However, on very, very rare occasions, he would suddenly fall unconscious without warning as the Gods knocked on his door, and he would always answer, despite knowing that nothing but a scolding or teasing would await him for missing one of their omens or prophecies, which they'd occasionally slip him for their own entertainment, or as an unorthodox, vague way of trying to help him. Once the Gods were through with him-or maybe even before, if he decided he'd had enough-he could open the door and come back to his own mind, cutting the connection off and reducing them to nothing but static once more. This was how the connection worked; a door that only existed in his mind that lead to a large, empty black space that didn't have walls or ceilings, just the door that lead him back into his body, and the voice that was several voices coming from everywhere. It was like standing in space, but with no stars, no galaxies, nothing... just a door.

But, that door had just vanished, and no matter how many times he turned in circles, looked up and down and everywhere, he couldn't find it.

That meant that he was trapped here.

He couldn't get back inside his body.

The voice, the voice that sounded like a large audience of males and females, children and adults, speaking all at once, began to laugh. The laugh was light and harsh and pitying and mocking all at the same time, but it was most definitely frightening.

Undertaker turned again, and he saw it now; not the precious door that lead back to his own mind, but a small, bright pinpoint of light, and he knew without being told, without ever having seen it before, that that's where the voice was coming from.

He knew that the strange little white light that had appeared in the nothingness, out of nowhere, was the embodiment of the Gods.

And it was coming for him.

_Fool._ They mocked, the pinpoint of light slowly growing, coming closer. _You thought that though you've dabbled in Death since your creation, toyed and played with it since you first came into existence, and dodged and defiled it since you learned to squabble, that you could avoid it for all eternity. That just because you have the potential to always exist, you had the right. Such arrogance is inexcusable and disgusting._

_Fool. You can do no such thing. Death is everywhere, and one day, it will kiss your lips and take away all you have. This is merely part of Life, as it keeps the Balance; sooner or later, everything lives, and everything dies. That is what we put into place, and that is how it shall be._

"You know that if I die, the Realms will be at an end?"

_Do you really think yourself irreplaceable? You are silly, little reaper. You are but a mere speck in the vast Universe, so small that even we can barely see you. We are all that matter, we are the only things truly important. Do not deny this, as without us, nothing would be here. Do not be so foolish as to think yourself equal._

"I never said I was irreplaceable, or anywhere near equal, but I will say I am the only non-Godly being who has been since the existence of time. I know much, much more than any replacements would. They would need to be taught about life and how the world works simply by seeing the ages pass, as even you cannot embed experience into a soul. How would they teach the rest such crucial things as creating new beings, new Wires? How would they know how to guard the Balance if they did not grow with it? If I am dead, how _will _ they make new Wires? There shall be none, the connections will all die, and the World shall go with them."

The pinprick paused in its movement forward, considering this quietly for a long, silent minute. Undertaker waited, his heart thrumming anxiously as he prayed for his door to return. Finally, the voice answered once more, no longer sounding so cocky and self-assured, but not sounding very bothered, either.

_We do not need your Realms. _They said, the voice becoming a bit spiteful as the pinprick began to grow again. _You are but one world in the wide Universe. Your realms are but a few of billions, in an innumerable, ever-expanding amount of worlds. We do not rely on you in the slightest. Should the planet Earth and all of its realms die, the Universe would hardly even notice the loss. We would hardly notice, either, as there are other planets with others beings that will offer us amusement._

"But you rely on the Universe as your home, just as all other beings do, do you not?" He said evenly, trying to sound disinterested and cool in order to further throw them off, not giving away that he was running out of options, and was rapidly delving into panic. "Afterall, you live here too, you know."

_Now you think of your world as the Universe? Or, at least, a major part of it? Please, your ego has inflated this much just because you are the last one of your world who's privileged enough to hear us? Sickening._

"I think of my world, planet Earth and its Realms, as a thread." He responded calmly. "If you pull one thread from a stocking, it does not make a large difference. However, should you keep pulling threads, the stocking will eventually grow a hole, and once there is a hole, everything begins to unravel very quickly. How many threads have you pulled thus far? How deep is the hole you are digging for us all?"

No answer.

Their ominous silence both frightened and intrigued Undertaker. He now knew that that pinprick of light and the disappearance of his door meant that his Shinigami body had died. Now, something was dragging them closer, and he was beginning to get very uneasy as he noticed the rate at which the pinprick-no, a bead, a bead of light now-was growing. He didn't have any idea what awaited him when he reached that light, and, subsequently, them, but he had a feeling there was no turning back when he did.

"Well?" Undertaker prompted, his mental, dream-like self raising a hand and tapping his temple in a think-about-it gesture. "How many threads? How many worlds destroyed and how many holes in the Universe have you made because you refused to reincarnate Wires because of your simple pride?"

_You will be the first world. _They responded, the bead of light now growing into a large, approaching ball. Undertaker could feel the warmth of it on his face, even though it was still very far away, and it made him squint with its incredible brightness, as though he were staring at a miniature sun.

"Why start, then? Why begin to unravel a perfectly good Universe? Why rip apart your proverbial stocking? If we're only the first, then we can fix the problem before it even begins."

_Because it is not our choice to make. _They said simply, the ball of light growing faster now, getting warmer and brighter with every inch it grew. _It goes against one of our most absolute, primary laws; Death. Why should we make an exception for you and your world? You're the last of a breed that nearly went instinct, and now you have died the same way that those before you did. You're part of an insignificant little world that is full of destruction, and it threatens its own Balance daily. Just look; this is the second time this has happened. Pray, then, why should we break one of our holiest codes and spare you? Perhaps the Universe, like all things, is meant to die one day, as well. Perhaps you are merely the beginning of what will happen naturally, the beginning of what is inevitable, no matter how long it takes. Perhaps, as a natural-born messenger of Death, this is something you should even take pride in..._

"In that case, why did you keep me as a Wire?" Undertaker said, becoming uneasy as that light continued to grow, now getting so large that it nearly blocked out his line of sight. The heat of it burned his face, and he squinted even harder at the intensity of the light. "Why did you not simply destroy my world ages ago, when it first began to tip its own scale? The thread that pulled itself loose through sheer selfishness? Why not either rip the thread away or mend it back into place, if it concerns you so?"

_Because, that also breaks our laws. While we enforce Death, we do not hurry it along, as that would infringe upon Life. This seems like it would have happened eventually, regardless of what either of us did, anyway. It's better to simply sit back and let things take their course._

"You teach about nothing but the Balance, correct? It's also why you are neutral on all matters, cold to all that try to reach you, heartless to all that beg, unless what they're saying complies with your laws, yes?"

_Oh, so he _has _been paying attention. _The voice laughed, and Undertaker's dream-self scowled. The light was getting very close now, and both the sheer heat and sheer luminosity of it _hurt..._

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe the Universe is the one thing that's not meant to die? You created the archangels of my world, and they all represent one of your key laws; Life and Death, Destruction and Healing, and Justice and Proclamation. However, there are _seven_ angels, because one is the fulcrum point of them all. The Universe is _our_ fulcrum point, and should you allow it to die, allow us to die, allow _yourselves_ to die, who knows what a Death like that will cause? There shall be no more Life, and everything that remains will be utter chaos!"

_Silly reaper._ They chided in a sing-song voice. _We have told you, our laws are in place for a reason. If the Universe dies, who says it is the end? Perhaps something new shall be born of it, as everything else. Besides, it's as we said before; a world as unstable as yours would have only killed itself in the end, and it is not wise for those obsessed with Balance to make exceptions based on questions that even _we_ can't answer. Besides, it is not us coming to you;_ you _are coming to_ us.

Undertaker realized with a jolt that this was true; the light was growing, but it was not the same as having someone who is holding a lantern approach you. The light did not bob and weave with movement, but instead stayed perfectly still. He, however, was sliding smoothly toward the light, the Light of the Gods, at an increasingly fast pace.

_And he couldn't stop._

_This is Death, reaper. This is Death when it comes for an immortal, who existed solely to bring Death to others. Ironic, isn't it?_

The voice sounded almost sympathetic now that Undertaker realized he was helpless; that Death had ripped him away from his body and was now throwing him to the Gods.

_You will join us. You will join us and become good and evil, male and female, dark and light, happiness and despair, everything and nothing, all at once... You will be, and yet you will not, as you will only be a part._

"What does that even _mean?" _Undertaker gasped, as the light was now barely ten feet away, and some invisible force-the Hand of Death, maybe?-continued to push him forward relentlessly, toward his ultimate demise.

_It means that you will become a God. _The voice said simply._ If, by some chance, you escape the force behind you yet again, we will not come after you. It is not our way. However, one day, eventually, you will be a God, and you will be everything and nothing. It is inevitable._

Undertaker was very, very confused by all of this; in fact, he was so utterly terrified that his mind refused to work at all. The light was now within a foot of him, and the heat, _the heat,_ was now unbearable. It scorched his skin like the hottest fire and the coldest ice. The light was the brightest thing he'd ever seen, and he thought he'd go blind with its intensity, as it was like staring directly at the face of a the sun. He closed his eyes tightly, turning his face away from the light as it continued to move forward. He knew, then, that if the light touched him, he would be completely and utterly dead. He would be gone, gone forever, joining the other Gods and the Universe itself. He would no longer be Undertaker, as he would no longer be alive.

And he didn't want to go.

William, Ronald, hell, even Sebastian and Ciel... He couldn't leave them.

And Grell, oh, Gods, _Grell._ Not his Grell. He knew it would destroy Grell to see this. To see his Shinigami body on the other side of the now-missing door go limp, never to regain the conscious being who had crossed the door to speak with the Gods and never come back. Oh Grell, _Grell..._

_Do not worry. _The Gods said, their combined voices strangely soothing as the light came within an inch of Undertaker's cheek. Undertaker further flattened himself against the invisible wall that was pressing him forward, begging, pleading silently for the light to disappear, to leave him...

He couldn't leave them. He couldn't leave the few he cared for.

_Do not worry. You will feel nothing when you join us. There will be no pain. No more._

"No..." He whispered, as the light slowly began to close that last inch._ "He _will still feel pain. They all will. Please,_ no..."_

_Today is your day._ They said simply, and Undertaker prepared to leave both of his worlds for eternity; the Realms he lived in and the planet he walked upon, as well as the Shinigami who had stolen his heart... stolen his heart and added it to his blood-red collection.

Because Grell was his world, and he didn't want to leave him behind.

_Today is your day._

He took a deep breath and begged for the chance to say goodbye, even though he knew that he was all out of chances.

xxx

I hope that wasn't too confusing, guys. x.x Please tell me if you didn't understand something; I got as confused as hell writing it, and it's been a long week and I have a lot of projects due for class, so updates may be a little slow until Monday. If you have a question, please ask me and I'll do my best to explain, lol.


	31. Revelation

TWO DAYS WITHOUT AN UPDATE. D8 OMG I AM SO SORRY.

School's been sucking up all my free time. Finals are coming up and all the teachers are bloody well slamming us with work. ;w; Too much, too much...

I'll try to keep up from here, but if updates are patchy, I'm very sorry. D8

xxx

Smooth, sweet-smelling wood suddenly at his back...

Cool, slick metal against his hand...

That blinding, burning light, a second away from gracing his face...

Undertaker, quick as ever, grabbed the doorknob of his mental door when it appeared once again, the precious opening pressing against the newly-scarred flesh of his back with such suddenness that it frightened him and made him jump. Not stopping to ask questions, he tore the door open and swung himself around instinctively, just barely missing the light once more as he, literally, dived back into his own mind, the last tendrils of light fading away as the door slammed shut behind him.

Immediately, all went black, and it was though he were just waking from a nap and had yet to even open his eyes. He was now aware of his body once more, and his eyelids twitched and flickered as his brain came back online, signaling that he was once again with the real world. Within seconds, a massive, almost sickly-sweet wave of pure and utter relief washed over him as he realized he was still alive, and his limbs seemed to turn to jelly. What the hell had just happened? He had no idea, but it had literally just saved him from a horrid fate; a fate that he could never, ever had recovered from. Therefore, he saw no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, and was just busy thanking his lucky stars.

...Then, that's when he became aware of not only his body, but his surroundings, and the pain hit him. For a second, as it washed over him in a massive torrent and took him over, he wished he really _had _died.

The bolt of aching, stabbing pain that started in his back and radiated throughout all of his body was probably the worst thing he'd ever felt. The tips of his fingers, his toes, hell, even his _teeth _hurt, and he was horribly aware of all of the nerve endings scattered throughout his body. He clenched his teeth, but then stopped abruptly as torment ripped through his face, and he bit back a whimper of agony.

And, then, something pressed down on his chest, forcing the origin of pain to press against some firm surface, and somehow the blinding, shattering _agony _got even worse. A small, weak cry of turmoil was all he could manage as lights danced before his closed eyes, and just as quickly as it had come, the pressure released, and the pain subsided slightly, though it was now throbbing and sending a constant measure of pure _torture_ straight to his brain.

He lay there, stunned and trying to form words on his parched lips when he finally heard them; shouts that accompanied his own cry as it echoed around the room; very familiar shouts indeed. One, one was giving orders that he couldn't quite distinguish, as his ears were ringing too much to pick up anything like words; just basic sounds. A second voice answered, and it sounded frightened and strained, like it was in a great amount pain, yet still trying to keep control of something. A third mingled with the other two, and it sent shivers down his aching spine as he realized who it was; Grell, wailing like a grieving widow in what could be nothing but pure and utter emotional agony. Instinctively, he tried to move, tried and get up and help his beloved, but the pain that continued to rip up his spine kept him down like a twenty ton weight.

Suddenly, the pressure returned again, forcing him down, and he couldn't even moan this time as his physical suffering peaked to a limit he'd never dreamt possible. Rapidly, the sounds faded out and all of his thoughts slipped away, his mind going blank as he sank back into blissful, painless unconsciousness, driven back under by the sheer amount of pain.

000

William's blood-covered hands pulled away from Undertaker, and they were trembling violently, scattering scarlet beads across his patient's chest as his reeling mind flooded with an unimaginable, unbearable amount of turbulent emotion. Ronald was sitting up on the next bed over, against William's advice, and trying his best to comfort a destroyed Grell, who was wailing with misery into the blond's chest, and clinging to his young friend like he had no other tie to Earth. William hardly noticed, however, as he was feeling hollow with shock; Undertaker had just been technically _dead _for several minutes, and when, if he ever woke back up, the damage it may have caused could impede his healing immensely, or, maybe even be the very thing that _ended _all the chances he had of survival.

William sat down hard in the chair adjacent to the bed, his injured leg stretched out in front of him, and stared at the floor, trying to calm his violently shaking body. Undertaker had torn a stitch, as he'd dreaded, but thank the _Gods _it had been one of the stitches in his side, making it easy to reach. However, it had leaked precious blood that Undertaker couldn't afford to spare, and as a result, his heart had stopped, the small loss pushing his body beyond its limit. William had just been walking into the room, the last patients taken care of, to come and check on the more critical customers a few short minutes ago. He'd noticed the blood on the sheets, the scarlet-soaked bandages, and the sleeping, utterly-exhausted Grell next to the all-too-still Undertaker, and things had gone downhill from there as he realized what had happened. He'd woken Grell and forced him to move away, and Grell had immediately had a meltdown, Ronald coming to the rescue and doing his best to try and comfort him and keep him out of the brunette's way. William, doing his best to concentrate despite the noise, had rolled Undertaker over with very obvious difficulty, still impeded by his leg. He'd then sliced through the bandages with a scalpel, and removed, almost _torn _away the old stitches, and then, his fear powering him, he had sewn the wound closed again with a speed that was almost _scary._ From there, his mouth had met Undertaker's as he'd pressed down on his chest at timed, purposeful intervals, struggling desperately to get his heart going. Finally, after a few of the most terrifying minutes of William's life, Undertaker had breathed in a low gasp on his own, and a low moan had escaped him, telling William that he'd been successful; if only by the skin of his teeth.

Ronald, kindhearted as he was, was still trying to take care of Grell despite his own pain, and was currently struggling to keep the redhead sane, as Grell was on the verge of a complete and utter mental breakdown. What he'd just witnessed had been horrible and jarring, and William was obviously in shock, something Ronald had never seen before, and never thought he _would _see. Grell, however, was even worse, and couldn't even form words as violent sobs wracked his body, shaking them both as Grell clung to Ronald for dear life, his head buried against the younger Shinigami's chest.

"He's okay, Grell, s-see? William's got it..." Ronald said shakily, stroking Grell's hair as he looked pleadingly over at William for confirmation. "I just heard h-him make a noise, I swear. He's fine, I promise..."

William slowly looked back up at him, and the frightened, blind _terror _in his eyes scared Ronald more than he ever thought possible, and he subconsciously clutched Grell closer. William blinked owlishly, his reeling mind finally comprehending what Ronald had said, and then nodded slowly.

"He's alive." He confirmed, his voice hoarse with shock and his eyes bleak, hands still trembling like the legs of a newborn horse. "He's alive."

Grell's wailing lowered in volume, but he didn't relent his death-grip on Ronald, and his shaking increased tenfold; with relief, Ronald hoped. Ronald continued to stroke his hair, his own heart pounding as he struggled to figure out what he could do besides just sitting there.

"William?" He asked tentatively as William continued to stare at the ground, unmoving and hardly even breathing. "Do you need any help, sir?"

"No..." William said, slowly removing his gloves and tossing them into a nearby wastebasket, making them the third pair he'd discarded that night. Ronald bit his lip hard, studying him; he sure as hell didn't _look _like he didn't need help. There were very heavy, dark circles under his eyes, and he was very pale and unusually tousled-looking. Normally, he was the neatest, most well-maintained person Ronald knew, but right now even _he _looked like he was coming apart at the seams, and it was unnatural and frightening to see him in such a state.

"But what you can do," William said, raising his eyes and meeting Ronald's, startling the younger Shinigami. Sudden, hot anger was filling William's eyes, and Ronald flinched back, his heart speeding at the wild look on William's face. "Is get that horrid excuse for a Shinigami out of my damn infirmary, because, frankly, that was the most idiotic, irresponsible thing I have ever seen, and I may very well_ kill him _if I have to stare at his sorry ass much longer, and this time, I am _not_ exaggerating."

Ronald blinked, shocked, and Grell suddenly went very quiet, his wide, teary eyes staring at William with hurt bewilderment. William glared back at him, his anger rising into fury, his eyes flashing in the dim light and further intensifying that crazed look.

"How _dare _you," He breathed, his trembling coming to an abrupt halt as he locked eyes with a terrified Grell. "How _dare _you say you care about him when you're willing to fall straight asleep next to him, knowing he could _die _at any moment, but snoring away like you don't have a care in the world. Who in the hell does that, hm?"

Grell simply gawked at him, speechless shock and hurt quickly melting into miserable guilt as he stared helplessly at William, begging him for his last shred of patience, of mercy. Ronald's eye darted between them, shock radiating throughout his body as he struggled to get a handle on the situation.

Unfortunately for him, all of William's tolerance was _long_ gone.

"S-Sir!" Ronald gasped, sitting up slightly, despite the wave of pain that it sent down it back. "Sir, no, the blame-"

"Is _entirely _Sutcliff's!" William snapped, suddenly standing and knocking his chair over, despite his bad leg. Grell and Ronald jumped, and William pointed an accusing finger at Grell, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "This was completely avoidable! If he had _any _sense at all, he would have stayed awake like someone who actually _cared, _and he could have noticed this before we nearly lost the most important person here! Once again, his complete idiocy has nearly cost all of us a very high price indeed!"

Ronald reeled back, startled and disturbed by the sudden change in his boss. William... William didn't look like _William; _no, he looked like someone else entirely. Someone who'd gone off the deep end and was never coming back. Ronald had never seen that furious, almost _insane _spark in his eyes before, despite all the times William had gotten pissed with him; or _anyone _else, for that matter. No, William looked like he was honestly, _sincerely, _getting ready to _murder _someone in cold blood, namely Grell, and it was downright _scary,_ because that glitter in his eyes was not only something entirely alien and unnatural...

It was _ghastly._

Grell noticed this as well, as he let go of Ronald and and leaned even farther away from William, his eyes wide in shock and his body still trembling gently. William sneered at him, dropping his hand and leaning against the wall for support, his bad leg shaking badly as it struggled to hold him up, looking as though it might break all over again at any moment.

_How was William not showing pain anymore...?_

"Didn't you kill your last so-called 'lover' as well? This is _hardly _surprising to me, especially since it's coming from someone who chases after _demons." _He spat, leaning more noticeably against the wall as his crutch remained forgotten by the bed, and his leg continued to spasm. "You, Sutcliff, you are just _using _him to get your rocks off. You know what? You're fired, and if I had my way, if I could _move_ right now, you'd be dead. In fact, if you stay in my sight for another ten seconds, I'll finish what that demon started. Get _out,_ and don't you _ever _come within a hundred feet of either him, or my Library, _ever_ again, do you understand?" He hissed, so venomously that he sounded as though he was going to flare a hood and spit poison in Grell's eyes.

Grell's cheeks were soaking with hurt tears once again, and Ronald stared at William, reeling and struggling to come up with something to say. What the _hell? _They'd just lost half the Shinigami in the Library, and he was now _firing _Grell? And making _death threats? _Grell may not have been the best employee, but he was efficient, and he meant well...

This wasn't right! This made no sense!

This... this wasn't William! Not at all! William was sensible and smart and handsome, and he may be a little uptight, sure, but he... he wouldn't do something like this! He wouldn't threaten to kill his creations, or take away their homes when they'd already lost _everything! _That was the complete opposite of what he would do!

_This wasn't William! _

"But, I..." Grell whimpered, tears spilling down his face once more. "I lo-"

William crossed the space in two steps, his trembling leg ignored, though it nearly gave out on him, and Ronald cringed violently as William's hand whipped by his face, and the slap of flesh-against-flesh rang out. Grell was knocked onto his side by the powerful force of the blow, his head striking one of the bedposts and cracking like a gunshot. William stood above him, his hand raised and his chest heaving as he panted, that insane glitter still dancing in his eyes.

"Get _out!"_

_"William."_

Ronald's eye snapped up to where the sound had come from, a sound that was akin to a large dog emitting the sort of growl that came before it mauled someone for harming its owner. Undertaker was there, and very much awake, his visible eye startling, brilliantly emerald and _burning _with fury, his lips pulled back in a sneer of contempt so strong, it was nearly hatred. Somehow, despite the extent of his injuries, he had managed to sit up, and was now glaring bloody-murder at his best friend and only creation, obviously _pissed._ William turned slowly, his eyes meeting Undertaker's challengingly, showing no remorse for having just slapped Grell half-senseless and being caught in the act. Grell raised himself slightly from the bed where he'd been laying, too stunned to move, and stared at Undertaker in shocked awe, despite the tears of pain and hurt running down his face.

He couldn't believe...

Ronald stared as Grell whipped to his feet and ran to Undertaker, his own injuries ignored as he wrapped his arms around him and buried his head against the crook of his lover's neck, breaking down into sobs once more. Undertaker wrapped his arms around him defensively, still staring William down and _daring _him to say a word against it. Ronald watched in fascinated fear, afraid of what would happen should he be in the way of the two if a confrontation should occur. He had a feeling it wouldn't be pretty, even if both parties were badly injured as it was.

"Don't you _ever,"_ Undertaker hissed through his teeth, hugging Grell close and continuing to meet William's eyes. "Touch him like that again, or the consequences will be _very _unpleasant, regardless of the circumstances of his punishment. That was _completely _unacceptable and utterly out-of-line, whether you're his superior or not."

William flicked his eyes away, knowing better than to challenge Undertaker, even in the worst of states. He stared bitterly at the wall, a small, rueful smirk that contained no humor whatsoever tugging up at his mouth. Ronald stared at the three of them, not sure what to say, and his unease grew as a small, bitter chuckle emitted from William; the first and single most _creepy _laugh Ronald had _ever _heard out of him.

"This is the thanks I get..." He muttered sourly, shoving his still-bloody hands in his pockets, yet _another _thing that he normally wouldn't have done. "I can't believe how ungrateful even _you _turned out to be..."

Ronald's jaw was practically brushing the bedsheets as William turned and limped for the door. He winced as William wrenched it opened and left, slamming the door loudly behind him and causing the pill bottle on the bedside table to shake. There wasn't a single soul in the infirmary who was still asleep, and most of them were wearing the same expression as Ronald; the one that screamed 'what the _HELL _just happened!'

Undertaker's brow furrowed slightly, and he stared at the door for a second, his eyes flashing with some unintelligible emotion. He flicked his eye down to Grell, and he began stroking his hair soothingly, doing his best to stop Grell's sobs with simple reassurance, though his nerves were shrieking, _begging_ for him to lie back down.

"Hush, hush..." He whispered, laying the uninjured side of his face against Grell's hair and wincing as pain radiated throughout his body once more, regardless of how careful he was trying to be. He shuddered, his muscles aching, his skin pulling and feeling as though it would tear in two where the bandage-bound stitches still held it together. "It's okay, everything's fine..."

Grell clung to him wordlessly, his sobs petering out to a helpless, relieved whimpering intermixed with sniffles and mumbles of quiet bewilderment. Undertaker kissed the top of his head, then flinched as the fresh stitches in his face pulled painfully. The small movement made pain rip throughout his body again, and he was earnestly wondering how he'd gotten into a sitting position without passing out all over again. He'd heard William firing Grell, then threatening to kill him, and his good eye had come open in time for him to see what William had done, and his body had responded, just like _that..._

His aching nerves were regretting it now that he new his beloved was safe, though, and his eyes were watering with torment.

"Grell, now, I really need to lie down," He managed to grunt hoarsely, and Grell pulled away quickly, wrenching himself a little roughly from Undertaker's arms and causing another torrent of pain to ripple throughout the battered Wire.

"S-sorry!" He whimpered as Undertaker turned onto his stomach and laid down once more, exhausted and in a great amount of pain, as all the movements, no matter how small, really _did _threaten to hurtle him back into his coma. "Are y-you okay?" Grell gulped, sitting on the edge of Undertaker's bed and trembling helplessly, his hand reaching out and stroking Undertaker's hair with weak relief. There was so much he wanted to say right then, but his mind was jumbled and blank and at a complete loss for words.

"As good as I can be, I suppose..." He answered after taking several seconds to collect himself, his voice tight with pain and tears of agony still in his eyes. "It's not like I've never felt pain before, afterall. I'll be fine, darling, I promise."

But, this was only half the truth. He _had _felt pain before, of course, but never _anything _like this. This ripping, grinding, radiating _torture_ was the worst sensation he'd ever experienced, and he thought he was going to die with every second that passed. Moving, talking, hell, even _breathing _made his entire body plunge a little bit deeper into misery, but he wasn't going to worry Grell further if he could possibly help it. He closed his eyes, reminding himself not to clench his teeth, and did his best to power the pain away. Oh _Great Gods Above _this was _horrible..._

"Come here, Grell." He said softly, his voice trembling with pain, his hand gently patting the space next to him with a weak, tired motion. Grell scooted closer obediently, sniffling and drying his eyes, his cheek still glowing red and very sore from William's slap. Undertaker sighed softly, seeming a little displeased, and Grell tensed, wondering what he'd done wrong. Had he hurt him? Upset him? That just wouldn't do, if he kept it up, he really _would_ have to go...

"Lay down, Grell."

"But-"

"Just do it, _please."_ Undertaker groaned, the pain in his face worsening as he was forced to speak much more than he wanted to. He knew it wasn't wise, as it was straining the stitches, and he could feel it. However, Grell was more important at the moment, especially after what had nearly just happened; he'd be _damned _if a few measly stitches stopped him from making sure his beauty was okay.

Grell hesitated, worried that by obeying, he'd hurt Undertaker even further, maybe by jostling him around unintentionally or bumping a sore spot by mistake. However, Undertaker slit his eye open, looking a little impatient, and Grell nodded weakly, slowly laying down by Undertaker and stretching out against him, getting only as close as he dared.

Undertaker wrapped an arm around him and pulled him slightly closer, wincing and grunting in pain as he did so, the extra-fresh stitches in his side tugging painfully. Grell tensed and looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear and shame, as though he expected further scolding. Undertaker looked back down at him, his eyes softening, and he kissed his cheek reassuringly, setting Grell at ease and making him relax once more.

"Ronald," Undertaker said, closing his eyes again and making the young blond jump and reconnect with reality, his eye dragging itself away from it's mesmerized staring at the door. "Go check on William. Something isn't right. In fact, I'm inclined to believe that something is _quite_ wrong."

Ronald nodded obediently, and he stood up shakily, getting dizzy as he did so. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the ice pack from the bed and pressed it to his cheek, sighing in relief as the room stopped spinning almost instantly, just stopping him from falling to the floor.

"Yes, sir." He said, limping slowly for the door. "I'll see what's up, maybe I can talk to him and calm him down a little."

"Thank you." Undertaker answered, reaching up and beginning to stroke Grell's crimson locks with slow, pained motions. "And _please,_ call me Undertaker."

Ronald gave him a shaky smile as he opened the door, and he nodded obediently.

"Sure thing, Undertaker. No problem."

The door shrieked closed, and Undertaker opened his eyes again the slightest amount, speaking from the corner of his mouth in an attempt to keep from further aggravating his injuries.

"M'dear," He said softly, running his long nails through Grell's hair. Grell turned in his arms and laid his head against his neck, his eyes shining with tears and he breathed in his lover's scent, hoping that he'd never have to leave. He closed his eyes tightly, tears tracking down his cheeks once more as he nuzzled against Undertaker's neck, oblivious to the pain the small motion caused his lover. Undertaker's skin was chilly from bloodloss, and he could feel his lover breaking out into goosebumps from cold. Grell snuggled as close as he dared, determined to share the warmth of his love; determined to chase away that cold loneliness, once and for all.

"There's something that needs to be said." Undertaker whispered, his breath, somehow still as warm and sweet-smelling as ever, brushing over Grell's ear, gently tickling the sensitive surface. Grell nodded, understanding perfectly, and he tilted his head back, his lips brushing Undertaker's gently as he murmured the answer he'd decided long ago, but never thought he'd get the chance to say.

"I love you."

The kiss he received in return was all the answer he needed.

xxx

I'll try to keep up from now on. :C Sorry again for the delay, lovelies!

Also, someone asked over me over deviantART about fanart for this story, and whether it was okay to make it. Let me just say that yes, yes it is! I would be flattered if any of you liked this story enough to actually make art of it, and I'd happily post links in the AN's of updates if you'd like. So, feel free, just so long as you credit me for the story! ^_^ I can't wait to see what you guys make.

Here's the first scrap of fanart! .com/#/d3489w4

If the URL doesn't show up, it's by motomori at deviantART, titled "Wounded". If you still can't find it, say so in the reviews and I'll find a way to get it to you. :)


	32. Up a Creek Without a Paddle

As he stumbled down the hallway, his mind hazy, chest _literally _creaking, and aching sharply with every breath, and his leg pounding with pain, William headed for his office, vaguely remembering that he had something to do there. He squinted at the wall as the floor began to sway, and he staggered over, leaning against it and trying to remember just what he'd been meaning to do. He placed a few trembling fingers to his temple, trying to piece his scattered thoughts together. Something about a book...? Yes, it had something to do with a book, and it was _important,_ he knew that much. But what exactly...?

"William!"

He turned his head slowly, his mind realizing, rather dreamily, that he'd been called for several seconds _after _his name had reached his ears. Ronald staggered toward him, an icepack placed against his cheek and a worried look in his eye, a look that was accentuated by the deep frown he was wearing. William blinked slowly, confused; just how had Ronald's face gotten all bruised up like that? He had a feeling that somewhere in the back of his head, he knew, but at that moment, it seemed like a long-forgotten mystery, and he just couldn't dredge up the reason. Instead, he stared at Ronald as though he'd never seen him before in his life, and Ronald stared back at him, finally coming to a stop before him and surveying him critically, not liking what he was seeing. Not at all.

"William, are... are you okay?" Ronald asked, staring at William speculatively. William... William didn't look good. _At all._ His eyes were glazed and darting about, as though he was trying to figure out where he was. His hair was disheveled in a way that just wasn't like his usual slick-backed style, and his bangs were soaked with sweat and sticking to his forehead. The bloodstains on his usually perfect, white dress-shirt contrasted sharply with his face, which in the brighter light, Ronald now noticed was very, _very _pale, paler than he had thought before. He was sweating badly, his breath coming in rapid, tired pants, as though he had jogged down the hallway, not limped as less than half his usual pace. As Ronald watched, he staggered slightly, his still-trembling leg beginning to give under all the sudden strain, the bloodstain from before about twice as large now. Instinctively, Ronald reached out and caught his shoulders, but William hardly seemed to notice this, as he didn't pull away and chastise Ronald as he normally would. He seemed to stare directly through Ronald instead, as though he wasn't even there; he honestly looked like he was _daydreaming, _of all things.

Ronald blinked, now feeling the unnatural heat of William's shoulders through his bloodied jacket, and William mumbled something softly, his glazed eyes still staring straight through Ronald.

"E-excuse me?" Ronald stuttered, startled by the severity of William's condition and getting more concerned by the second. He now stared at the rips in William's shirt, where Resmodus' claws had stabbed into his chest hours before, and noticed that he was _very _pale there as well. William was a fair-skinned individual by nature, his hours of office work keeping him inside a good deal of the time, but this... this was beyond that. The wounds from the claws were a stark, ghastly, _angry _red compared to the rest of him, and it further emphasized just how ghostly-pale he looked. Hell, by this point, he was comparable to what remained of the white shirt he was wearing.

Undertaker was right. Something was wrong.

_Very_ wrong.

"A book..." William repeated, staggering again, worse this time, despite Ronald's grip on him. "I need to take care of a book..."

"What book?" Ronald asked, stumbling a bit as William nearly dragged him down, but just managing to keep his footing. "William, is something wrong? I can help, I-"

William slapped his hand away abruptly, his own clammy and trembling, and Ronald stared at him as he staggered back and leaned against the wall once more, putting a hand to his forehead, still panting for air as though he'd just run a marathon. The slap hadn't really hurt, it had been more surprising than anything, but Ronald was stung nonetheless. He stared as William spoke again, his voice strangely slurred, as though he'd had a few too many shots of the strongest drink in the Library.

"I remember now..." He mumbled, turning and stumbling toward the Higher Officer Wing once more, his lame leg dragging slightly behind him as he went. "I..."

Ronald knew it was going to happen before it did, just from the way William's voice faltered, the way his gait slipped, and he moved forward immediately, dropping the icepack as he hurried to aid William, praying he wasn't too late.

William's eyes rolled back, and his good knee buckled, while his bad leg merely faltered and slid out from under him. His shoulders went slack and slumped forward, and he went down immediately, his words dying on his lips. Ronald caught him by the shoulders just before his head could smack the cold, unforgiving floor, gasping in shock as William's glasses slid from his face and skittered across the tile. He just barely managed to avoid them as he was brought down with William, his knees banging painfully against the floor, his pounding head swimming at the sudden change in position.

"William!" He cried, ignoring his own discomfort and moving so that he was kneeling more comfortably beside him, cradling his wounded superior in his arms. Shocked by the sudden change of events, he let out a soft whimper of distress, not sure of what to do. Handling the battered Shinigami carefully, he readjusted himself, and placed William's head gingerly in his lap, expecting a sharp reprimand at any second; almost hoping for it, as it would be proof that William's condition wasn't nearly as bad as it seemed. However, none came, and he stared down at William, his worry quickly sharpening into panic. What did he do _now?_ What did he do...

He studied William carefully, his own breath hitching in his throat as he fought the panic, managing to get a handle on it and force it down. William's eyes were half-lidded and glazed over, worse than before, and he was mumbling a quiet, incoherent string of words, his speech still as slurred as a drunkard's. Ronald leaned down, trying to hear what he was saying, hoping against hope it might be useful.

"The book, the book..." He was mumbling, and Ronald drew back with a small gasp of shock when he realized that William was starting to shiver violently, as though he was freezing to death, despite the fact that he was sweating bullets. William closed his eyes and let out a soft moan, and it sounded like he was in an incredible amount of pain, frightening Ronald further. Was he about to have a seizure of his own? Oh Gods, _no._ The seizure Ronald had experienced earlier had been his first, and he sincerely hoped his last; those things were _scary._ Slowly, scared witless, Ronald raised a trembling hand and laid it against William's brow, praying that William's shivering didn't worsen into full-blown convulsions, especially not when the two of them were stuck out here, alone.

William, once again, didn't notice Ronald's prodding at all, and Ronald found to his horror that not only did William not slap his hand away, but he was _burning hot, _and not in the way Ronald usually thought of him as. No, he was absolutely scorching with fever, and Ronald withdrew his hand swiftly, looking around for other Shinigami, hoping for some form of help. He chewed his lip anxiously, not expecting to see anyone, and not really being surprised when he turned out to be right; there wasn't a soul in sight.

"Hey!" He cried out anyway, grabbing William under his arms and wrapping his own around him, crossing them over his superior's chest and making a sort of harness with his own body. He readjusted his grip slightly on his shivering superior, then slowly came out of his crouch, his legs shaky as he did his best to stand, the added weight almost knocking him back down. Head whirling, Ronald closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to clear his mind; this wasn't good, not at _all..._

"Somebody!" He cried again, eyes still closed as he swayed and struggled to stay on his feet. Panting softly with exertion, he took a step back, beginning to drag William back down the hall and into the infirmary. "Help!"

No answer came, as expected, because everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, exhausted and nursing wounds. Even the most notorious insomniacs were absent, and Ronald and William were completely alone in their shared predicament. Ronald knew that he didn't have much a chance of anyone hearing his cries, as the rooms were almost entirely soundproof, and the closed doors of the various Wings only added to this. Cursing his luck, he took another few slow, pained steps backward, slowly dragging William a few inches across the slick tile.

"Shit..." Ronald muttered, knowing that if he normally would have said that with William in earshot, he would have received a rough cuff around the ears. Still, this definitely wasn't the norm, and he went without punishment, which was _extremely _unnerving for him right then. William simply continued to shiver in his arms, unaware of everything around him, his delirious mumbling only getting worse as his fever continued to burn, growing hotter yet. Ronald, knowing he was getting no help unless he could get William back down the hallway and into the infirmary, took a deep breath and began to drag William backwards, step by straining step, inch by painful inch.

Normally, a task like this wouldn't have been too difficult for Ronald. Ronald Knox, wielder of one of the heaviest death scythes in the business of soul-reaping, was used to heavy lifting. His small, lean frame was deceptively strong because of it, and this coupled with his Judo-Kickboxing style, it made him a surprisingly formidable opponent, despite his small size (Grell was, technically, smaller than him, but the damn redhead was always in heels, so no one could tell). One of his favorite games was to gamble at the late-night parties he almost never missed (much to William's chagrin) by challenging one of the tougher-looking, ego-bloated guys to an arm-wrestling match, or something else of the sort. He almost always won, and he could often bulk up his paycheck with the extra money while showing off a little. (Hey, how else was he supposed to impress the ladies? A guy's gotta improvise, especially when he looks like he couldn't pose a threat if he tried.) As a result, many of the tougher Shinigami had learned to avoid his bets, or, they constantly challenged him to rematches, determined to try and get the upper hand for once. (He couldn't complain; it was just more money in his pocket, afterall.) He'd earned a lot of respect this way, as his combination of nice-guy attitude but tough-guy potential made him pretty popular around the office. Ronald was a man with few worries and even fewer enemies, and he had to admit; life was good.

But, right then, it could have been better. _Much _better.

Crippled with a bad concussion, one eye, and a very sore, whirling head, a good deal of his strength had left him, and he was finding it much more difficult than it should have been to haul William back into the room. He had stopped twice already, gasping for air and closing his eye tightly to try and keep himself from passing out, knowing that if he did, he might hurt himself and his precious cargo in the process, roughing them up even more. That would _completely _defeat the purpose of trying to get William help.

"Somebody!" He called again, still about six feet short of the door, though he had managed to drag William nearly eight feet as it was. That wasn't too bad... right?

"Heeeey! I need some help over here!"

"My my, what a problem you have." A soft yet sophisticated voice said from Ronald's blind-side, profusely startling the young Shinigami and making him start, as though he'd been shocked. "What happened to him? It doesn't look very pleasant, whatever it is..."

Ronald snapped his head around much faster than he should have, and he let out a low groan of pain, staggering worse than he had before. He leaned perilously to the right, unable to see what was there, but unable to keep from falling, either. He was understandably shocked, then, when a pair of strong, firm hands caught him easily. A slightly deeper, mildly amused voice spoke up from above him, and he looked up, startled.

"It looks like he could use some help indeed, Young Master." Sebastian said, quirking an eyebrow as Ronald's two-toned eye met his own and widened with surprise.

Ronald heard a few quiet footsteps, and Ciel appeared next to Sebastian, finally in Ronald's line of sight. The two had cleaned up nicely, and now there wasn't a mark on either of them, and Ciel's eyepatch was back where it always was, the usual, smug frown on his lips. Ronald's surprise quickly faded into relief, and he gave them a shaky-albeit cocky-grin, his demeanor still as rambunctiously playful as ever, despite the situation, and the schism between their kinds.

"You scared the hell out of me." He breathed out with a weak, wobbly laugh, subtly readjusting his grip on the shivering William. "Do you really have to sneak around like that?"

Sebastian shrugged slightly and let go of Ronald, watching carefully as the steadied himself.

"Habit." He said simply, and Ciel rolled his eye, looking a tad exasperated with the two of them.

"We're not 'sneaking around', reaper, you just couldn't hear us over your shouting. That's hardly our fault." He scoffed lightly, studying the Shinigami with one pink-red eye. "And I'll only repeat myself once more; just what exactly happened to him?"

"He's sick." Ronald said grimly, looking down at the shivering William as though to make sure he was still there, his bruised brow furrowing slightly with worry. "He was acting weird, and when I followed him out to make sure he was okay, he just... collapsed."

"He certainly smells of sickness." Ciel agreed quietly, touching a finger to his lower lip thoughtfully. "Hm... I was never too fond of him, though, and there wasn't really any love lost between us. Still, he _did _help us with this whole mess, perhaps he's earned a reprieve..." Ciel tilted his head slightly, considering the two Shinigami, and Ronald stared at him pleadingly, praying that he'd decide to help. Demons were, of course, notoriously heartless, but Ciel was such a recent conversion that he still had quite a few human emotions clinging stubbornly to him, meaning he had slightly more heart than the average demon (though, quite a bit less than the average human, as he'd been very cold ever since the murder of his parents); for the time being, at least.

This was confirmed when his eye softened after a moment, and he looked up at Sebastian calmly, finally making his decision.

"Sebastian, help them." He said simply, nodding briskly at Ronald in indication. "They've earned it, as they've proved to be worthy allies. As an ex-Earl and a man of my word, I return generosity, and I see no reason to leave them here. Besides," He said, a cheeky grin flashing across his face as he glanced from the brunette to the raven-haired butler. "Didn't he help _you_ during the battle?"

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian said with a bow, though his eyes flashed with clear disdain at Ciel's remark. Stepping around Ronald and taking William, Sebastian hefted him into his arms easily (Shinigami, light-bodied as they were, were no problem for the demon, and William was no exception; the man, though he was a perfectly healthy weight for his size, couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds). He studied the Head Shinigami briefly, obviously remembering the Jack-the-Ripper incident. Distaste flashed in his eyes, and Ronald frowned a bit, not impressed with this slight disrespect of his superior, and preparing his weakened muscles to launch an attack on the demon, should he dare do anything to hurt William. However, Sebastian wisely made no remark nor ill-intentioned move, and he carried William to the infirmary door easily and without complaint, though, inwardly, he was positively _fuming._ Ronald followed him after a second, rubbing the back of his neck habitually, obviously worried for him.

"He won't be happy about this..." He muttered softly, watching William's shivering form with apprehension and nibbling his lip as he mulled over just what to do next.

"He wouldn't be happy if he knew you were running around in that state, either, but look at you." Ciel remarked coolly as he passed Ronald, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at him devilishly. Ronald stared at him, opening his mouth to retort, but he could find no answer; what Ciel said was completely true, even if the little brat's tone made the comment jab like a thorn.

"Point taken." Ronald said halfheartedly, as he couldn't even find the energy to sound angry. An earnest, soft chuckle emitted from the ex-Earl, showing that he wasn't nearly as worried as the young blond, or that he even cared in the slightest. The two followed Sebastian into the open doorway, one very much ill-at-ease, the other quite content, as he and his butler were in one piece and without pain, and they were now the sole rulers of Hell.

Ronald never would have said it aloud, but right then, he downright _envied _the two demons. They were both fully healed, and none-the-worse for wear after the battle. Ronald and every other Shinigami in the Library, however, was sporting some sort of ache or pain (or, for many of them, a new set of stitches somewhere or other), and they would be for the next several days. The demons had no such worry, and they glided easily into the infirmary, Ronald limping after them like some sort of old dog with arthritis. Oh Gods, it just wasn't _fair..._

Yes, shameful as it was, he envied them right then. Very much so.

"Is there an open area, reaper?" Sebastian inquired smoothly, glancing back at Ronald. "I'm sure you don't want me setting him on the floor, and I'm getting rather impatient with this whole situation."

Ciel's eye flashed as he surveyed the full infirmary, his face unreadable. He glanced at Sebastian, who merely stared back at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for orders. Ciel glanced at Ronald and shrugged, walking further into the room and leaving the two of them behind.

Ronald paused, considering the situation briefly and weighing his options. After a moment, he nodded toward his own now-empty bed.

"He can take mine." He said simply, limping toward the bed in question. "He needs it more."

Three eyes were staring at the four as they entered; two of them two-toned, the other the purest of emerald greens. Ronald looked over at Grell and Undertaker, who were watching silently, still curled close to each other. Their eyes flicked about as many other catlike orbs, sensing the presence of demons, suddenly came alight in the infirmary, silently watching the proceedings, and then focused on the four new entries again, waiting.

"I hope for your sake that whatever he has isn't contagious," Ciel said grimly, following Sebastian as his butler walked easily to the bed and set the panting William down, his own eyes flashing pink-red as he looked around the infirmary, silently staring back at them all. "Or you could have an even larger problem on your hands. Frankly, if I get sick, reaper, you'll be in a world of hurt for exposing me."

Ronald gave him a bit of an exasperated, incredulous look, leaning against the wall as he tried to calm his dizzy head. "For one, my name's Knox, Ronald Knox, you know that. Secondly, it's not my fault if-"

"There's no need for concern, Young Master." Sebastian cut in softly, turning back to them and bowing to Ciel, giving Ronald no regard. "It seems that one of his own wounds has become infected; it's not a contagious disease, merely a sign of his own uncleanliness. You have no need to worry."

A familiar, feminine voice then joined the conversation, cutting off the sharp reprimand Ronald was aiming at Sebastian, and Grell sat up from the next bed over, causing Undertaker to grunt in pain as he jerked his arm by mistake. Grell shot him an apologetic look, and Undertaker gave him a small smile of forgiveness, then nodded, gingerly, for him to continue.

"Sebas-chan!" He said, swapping his attention over and looking around the black-clad butler, his eyes locking on William. "What in the name of the Gods-"

"I was worried this would happen." Undertaker's hoarse, drawn voice said darkly, his brilliant green eye flicking between the others before settling on William. Grell glanced back at him, wincing as the long scratches that traced down his back pulled and ached. He didn't like Undertaker's tone...

"It seems we're up a creek without a paddle now, as our Head Shinigami as well as our Head Doctor is now out of commission. I can barely stand to speak, much less help, and the medical team is completely exhausted and only half as knowledgeable as William is. If there's another medical crisis right now, we're screwed."

Ronald and Grell exchanged a glance as there were a few subdued murmurs around the infirmary from the other critical patients, and Ciel watched them all, his face emotionless. Sebastian strode over to Ciel silently, standing next to him like the loyal butler he was, his eyes flashing as he lost himself in thought. The tension in the air was evident, and Ronald laid a hand on William's shoulder, his concern growing as William continued to shiver.

"So the question is," Undertaker continued grimly, shifting to try and get his sore body into a more comfortable position. It was a futile move, as everything hurt; no amount of shifting changed that; instead, it merely seemed to _aggravate_ his problem.

"What now?"

_Silence._

xxx

More fanart! Both are on dA, of course, and I'm sorry that FF doesn't like links. :c Still, I'll be sure to help you guys out as much as possible!

motomori has made another, and it's here: .com/#/d349o94

It's called "anger", and William looks very angry indeed. XD I think I see a bit of fang...

Also, there's another one by wolfegurl006: .com/art/New-Braid-188603210

It's called "New Braid" and it's so cute. :3 It made me smile, because it had one of my personal favorite scenes.

If any of you are curious, my dA is x-BRAY-x. Feel free to follow me, but although I log into dA all the time, I hardly ever post art/update anything there, lol, so don't expect much. XD *pokes neglected account*

Anyway, thanks for all the hard work you're putting into the fanart, guys. ^_^ I'm very flattered and I love seeing what you guys come up with. Keep them coming, and if you've made something, don't be shy about messaging me, either here or on dA!


	33. More Than You Think

"...I can do it."

Everyone looked over in surprise at the small young blond as he finally broke the silence, and Ronald met their gazes evenly. A calm, determined look was firmly held on his face, though inwardly, he was still panicking.

_You're only an officer! A high ranking officer, but still, just an officer! _The rational part of his mind screamed. _William does five times the work you do on the average day, don't even think about playing hero at a time like this! You'll crack like an egg!_

_But who else will? _Another side of him argued back. _Somebody's gotta do it._

Grell blinked, rubbing Undertaker's forearm absently as his own mind raced, going over what had just been said again and again. His brow furrowed with worry as he studied Ronald skeptically; Ronald was leaning against what was now William's bed, one foot braced against the ground, the other pressed against the side of the bed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the far wall, his face giving away the fact that his mind was whirring with thought. Normally, he'd look much more confident and capable like this, but with the large, ugly bruise on the right side of his face, he looked oddly insecure and vulnerable; not like his usual self at all.

"That's crazy, Ronald." Undertaker spoke up gruffly, voicing everyone else's thoughts while still trying to move his mouth as little as possible. "How in the hell are you supposed to take care of everyone in this infirmary like that? You can barely stand."

"I'll do what I can, and get help where I need it." Ronald said calmly, turning around and laying a concerned hand on William's forehead, careful to avoid that brilliant, searching gaze of Undertaker's. He wasn't sure he liked the way the older Shinigami seemed to be able to see right through you; it made him feel young and stupid. _Very_ stupid. "Right now we just need someone to point everyone and everything in the right direction, right? I can do that. We're in a position where no one is going to ask questions, because we can't afford to, and they know it."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do, anyway? I agree with Ronnie." Grell said, crossing his injured leg over his good leg decisively (and quite carefully) and looking down at his lover with wide, honest eyes. "I mean, we can't just sit here and twiddle our thumbs while we wait for him to get better. Somebody needs to do something."

"Will they obey you?" Ciel cut in calmly, crossing his arms as he spoke. He and Ronald locked eyes from across the room, and Ronald looked away first, looking worried and unsure. Sebastian glanced between them, nothing but his reddish eyes moving. Ah, Young Master and his cynical, probing tendencies, always poking at everyone's weaknesses and insecurities; he still amused Sebastian to no end.

"I'm not entirely sure." Ronald said quietly, and Grell crossed his arms and pouted. obviously not pleased with this answer.

"Oh, Ronnie, don't be so humble!" He said, swatting Ronald's arm gently with one small, slim hand. "People love you! Of course they will!"

Ronald blushed slightly and looked away, feeling self conscious once again. He wasn't sure he could trust Grell's judgment on that; Grell was a sweetheart if you were on his good side, and a pretty good friend, but he was very self-absorbed. It would be just like him to turn a few friendly conversations in the office into complete and utter overly-exaggerated fanfare. Since Ronald was a close friend, Grell would be damned to see him as _anything _less than the wet dream of everyone in the Library; second only to Grell himself, of course.

A faint, amused chuckle wafted through the air, and Ronald glanced up at Ciel, who was grinning at them in his usual self-assured way. He drew his hand away from William's forehead absently, watching the ex-Earl cautiously, not sure what he was scared of, but nervous nonetheless. Something about that kid just naturally screamed "eerie", and while Ronald didn't particularly dislike him, he wouldn't really consider him anywhere near a friend, either.

"Well, then, I suppose you should put it to the test, hm? As you said, it can't hurt to try, and someone needs to do it."

Sebastian looked down at Ciel, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. Ronald blinked, then looked at Grell and Undertaker, seeking a second opinion. Grell flashed him a grin that reeked of reassurance, and Undertaker smiled as much as he could manage, his brilliant eye studying Ronald in a fond, thoughtful way.

"Well, then..." Ronald said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought, his still-usable eye turned upward. "First off, would you demons mind helping out?"

"For the love of the Gods, Ronald, have some authority! You can't fill his shoes without twice the authority of the average trained militia!" Undertaker let out a half chuckle, then stopped abruptly, wincing hard, his hand ducking to his side. "Ow, nn..."

The older Shinigami settled down instantly, grimacing slightly with pain and getting a bit of a chiding scowl from Grell, who was still watching over him like a mother hen. Ronald sighed, a little frustrated, then looked back up at the two demons, the normally friendly spark in his eye dimming with a rare irritation. Ciel was fighting back a smile at Ronald's nervousness, and Sebastian wasn't even bothering to hide his amused, condescending smirk; he was clearly enjoying the show, as nothing entertained him more than seeing a Shinigami getting knocked off their high horse... or, in Ronald's case, struggling to mount one. He stared at Ronald expectantly, his red gaze making Ronald fight the urge to fidget; he was obviously waiting for a chance to laugh at the reaper.

Ronald was really beginning to understand William's distaste for demons.

"Fine, then... If you're going to hang around, you might as well go downstairs and... well, clean up the bodies of your own kind." He said, looking down and trying to force the image of Resmodus' mutilated form from his mind as it flashed before his eyes. He suppressed the shudder than ricocheted up his spine successfully, but he failed to hold back the grimace on his face. "I'll get a group to take care of the Shinigami, but William would sooner play a round of Strip Poker with one of you than let a demon be buried on Library grounds."

"We're not going to clean them up." Ciel said briskly, and Sebastian's eyebrow migrated a little farther up his forehead as his eyes flicked down to the Lord. "We eat our dead."

Ronald stared despite himself, struck speechless. Obvious disgust written across his face, he glanced down at the shivering William, finally sympathizing with his hatred, as _that_ was the last straw. He looked back up again, readying himself to demand that they do so off Library grounds. He stopped, however, when Ciel met his eye and the corner of his mouth tugged just the slightest amount. He flicked his eye over and saw Sebastian's smile get just a little bit bigger, almost bordering a full-blown grin.

"That's hilarious." Ronald said in a dry, unimpressed monotone that would have made William proud.

"So, he's not as dumb as that bruise would suggest." Ciel said, struggling to keep his poker face, though he was obviously failing. The corner of his mouth gave in and tugged up into a smirk when Ronald narrowed his eye in a glare, and Undertaker, despite himself, chuckled once more. The usually merry sound was gruff with how tired he was, and it intermixed oddly with a small grunt of pain. Grell looked down at him again and gently ran his nails through his hair, concerned for his well being.

"That was simply the Young Master's way of saying that he doesn't respond well to authority." Sebastian said calmly, his cold smile still embedded deeply into his face. Ciel shot him a light scowl, and his smile tugged up just a little bit more.

Ciel shook his head, looking back at Ronald, who now looked slightly pissed instead of just unamused. Ciel cleared his throat properly and crossed his arms behind his back, returning to his usual, serious state. Sebastian, however, continued to smile, his eyes dancing in a way that taunted Ronald and nearly drove the young blond insane.

Did demons _ever _grow up?

"Sebastian will take care of our dead, reaper." He said curtly, and Ronald nodded as much as he dared with his aching head, hiding a pleased smirk as Sebastian's smile abruptly vanished. "It will be enjoyable to throw the deplorable scum that once tried to rule me in such a volatile way into the fires of Hell."

"Thank you." Ronald said stiffly, crossing his arms and still looking rather sour, despite the fact that he had the childish urge to point-and-laugh at Sebastian, who was now wearing an emotionless mask once more, but was most likely furious. Ciel waved his hand dismissively at Ronald, ignoring his butler's discontent.

"Come, Sebastian." He said, turning and heading for the infirmary door, his pace calm and, apparently, pain-free. Ronald's mocking joy plummeted into envy once more, and he gingerly touched the bruises on his face, wincing as he did so, and doing his best not to dwell on the fact that he would be like that for several more days.

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian answered calmly, turning and following him obediently. Ronald scowled after them as they left, still burning with jealousy, and even a small bit of embarrassment at nearly falling for their joke.

"Demons..." He grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing down at William once more, his anger softening into worry at William's heaving chest. He looked up again when Undertaker let out a third, raspy chuckle, a quizzical look on his face. Grell gave Undertaker a bit of an annoyed look, then carefully stretched out and laid down beside him once more, nuzzling close to his still-chilly form.

"You sound just like him, though it's been quite awhile since I've heard him say anything like what you just volunteered to do." Undertaker said wistfully, glancing from Ronald to William and back again. "You take after him more than you think, Ronald."

Ronald looked down, flattered and a little startled by the sudden compliment from the oddball retiree. He sat down on the corner of William's bed, observing his boss with a sad, tired eye, then shifted his gaze away, not able to look for too long without becoming a little queasy.

"That's not what he says." He said softly, reaching up and unbuttoning William's torn, bloodied jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders with some difficulty, and then setting it down on the back of the chair between the two beds. Undertaker tilted his head, thinking for a second, then he closed his eye and laid his head on his pillow, his voice soft and gently rasping, like the stroke of a cat's tongue. Ronald was surprised at how soothing it sounded, as it both caught his attention and calmed his buzzing mind at the same time.

"Why exactly are you so eager to step in and help if you don't believe in your own ability, then?" He asked calmly, his voice holding friendly curiosity instead of criticism. Grell looked up at him, then took Undertaker cool, slender hand in his own and began to stroke the back of it with his thumb, earning a gentle, content sigh in return.

"Because... because it's what he would do." Ronald answered meekly, scooting a little closer to William and removing his superior's tie with a few quick motions, being as gentle as the brush of a feather. William murmured feverishly and shifted nonetheless, and Ronald frowned deeply, laying William's silk tie on top of his jacket and giving William's cheek a single soft, worried caress.

"And it _is _what he did do. Quite a long time ago, granted, but he did it, alright." Undertaker answered simply, cracking his eye open at Ronald and catching his attention once more. "William has a very... _unique _way of showing affection. He'd kill me if he knew I told you this, but he used to be as shy as the average bunny rabbit, and he was full of awkward moments and blunders. Sort of the opposite of what you are now, I suppose, but like you in the way that he was respectful, ready to laugh, and willing to please. He always bent over backwards to try and impress me, much like with what you do with him now." Undertaker said, smirking when Ronald flushed slightly. "However, after the... _incident,_ he toughened up considerably, and damn-well almost overnight. The name Spears fits him, because in a way, it was like placing the soft wood of a freshly made spear in a fire; he became hard and sharp and to the point. Yessir, he's a metaphorical fire-hardened spear. I'd always been pleased with him before, and it was hard to keep a steady balance of encouragement and critique to keep him from getting spoiled. But, I was never prouder than when he stepped up to the plate and took on that massive amount of responsibility, almost without blinking. It was rather bittersweet to see him going from shy and humble to strong and proud, especially when it had to happen under those circumstances, but, in the long run, I think it was for the better."

His magnificent eye slid closed, and Ronald stared at the ground, blinking in surprise at what he'd just heard. He shuffled his feet, doing his best to comprehend this new, rather startling piece of information, and wondering how Undertaker had gone from scowling at him constantly to sharing this almost grandfatherly advice with him like an old friend.

"So... you think he does notice the work I put into everything?" Ronald asked cautiously, reaching over to William again and gently lifting his glasses from his nose, carefully setting them on the bedside table.

Undertaker made a small noise of amusement in his throat, and Ronald tilted his head, curious, as he absently studied the bloodied clothes on the chair before him. Finally, he slipped off his own bothersome tie and laid it on top of the pile (He had long since lost his glasses, as they had flown off his face and probably into another dimension when Resmodus hit him. He probably wouldn't have been able to wear them with his injuries, anyway, so he didn't dwell on it.) and was listening intently when Undertaker finally spoke again.

"Well, he's certainly followed in my footsteps up to this point, minus my half-a-dozen scars and fairly neutral view on demons. Still, I'm sure he appreciates you more than he lets on, Ronald. He's proud and I hardly ever see him these days because he takes his work so seriously, but I can still read him like a book; he's in need of a little company.

"Therefore," Undertaker said, raising one finger and cracking his good eye open once more, looking at Ronald meaningfully. "I suggest that you don't follow in his footsteps as far as growing a stick up your ass goes. He needs a friend, not a paperwork buddy. Afterall, it is all about balance, and this office certainly needs a few lively people around to counterbalance his stiff upper lip."

Ronald smiled, then laughed softly as he realized that Undertaker wanted a little misbehavior in the office, regardless of what William said. He pulled off his bloodstained gloves and threw them into the nearby wastebasket, then pulled a second pair out of his pants pocket and slipped them on, grateful that they were somehow still clean and undamaged.

"I'll keep that in mind." Ronald said almost cheerily, exchanging a mischievous grin with Grell, who kissed Undertaker's hand and nuzzled slightly closer to him, looking quite pleased, indeed. "I really doubt I could ever give up partying, anyway."

Undertaker let out a tiny, restrained chuckle, and Grell ran his fingers through his hair, an exasperated yet fond look crossing his face.

"Stop that!" Grell chided, looking up to Undertaker once more and gently nuzzling his neck, showing that, while serious, he wasn't actually angry. "What if you tear a stitch, huh? What do we do then? Don't go making a bad situation worse."

"I apologize, m'dear." Undertaker said smoothly, raising an eyebrow at Grell and nearly making the redhead swoon despite how battered he was. Grell, struck speechless by the sultry glitter in his eye, merely shrugged and looked down, his heart thudding.

"Anyway," Ronald said, smiling at the two, despite the fact that another, entirely different breed of envy reared it's ugly head deep in his chest. "I'll be sure to keep things fun without causing him too much trouble."

"That's the ticket." Undertaker said, stroking Grell's hair and letting his eyes slide closed, his mouthing tugging into a smirk as Grell purred slightly, like a large red cat.

"Thanks, Undertaker."

"Anytime."

"Awwwww~!" Grell giggled, wiggling slightly with happiness and making Undertaker give him a bit of a look. Ronald raised an eyebrow at him, and Grell grinned widely at them both, obviously highly pleased with something.

"What?" The two asked in unison. Grell giggled harder at this, and he let out a quiet, happy squeal.

"You're bondiiiing! It's so _cuuuute!"_ He said, nudging Undertaker gently and earning a disbelieving look in return. "So you're not jealous anymore?"

Ronald glanced at Undertaker, who groaned and rolled his eye, then shut it tightly. Ronald smirked, finally putting the pieces together, and earnestly rather amused to find the answer in such a way. So _that's _why Undertaker hadn't liked him at first...

"I was never jealous, Grell, don't be silly."

"You were too! You were giving Ronnie dirty looks all the time, and you never wanted me around him!"

"I was in a foul mood. It was nothing personal."

"Was too!"

"Was not."

"Was _too!"_

"Grell, _really..."_

Ronald shook his head as the two bantered on, a small smile on his lips. His smile slipped away, however, when his gaze fell on William yet again. William's delirious mumbling had stopped for the time being, but he was still panting badly and covered in sweat, his pale face shining with it. His labored breathing was still making his chest heave, and his constant, severe trembling only served to make it worse. Ronald bit his lip, genuine worry flooding his body and replacing his good feelings with grim, morbid ones that were rather unlike him.

"...Were jealous and you know it!" Grell was saying when Ronald tuned back into the conversation, though his eyes didn't leave William this time. Undertaker was just about to retort when Ronald spoke up, his voice quiet and tired, yet still persuasive.

"Guys? We should probably wake up one of the nurses and get some help here. William doesn't look good. At all." He said grimly, pulling open the buttons of William's vest. Grell looked up, his playful teasing forgotten, and Undertaker let out a gentle sigh.

"Help Ronald, Grell." He said quietly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the pillow, gently nudging Grell in the back to encourage him up. "I'm obviously not going anywhere, and I'm not of any use, either."

Grell bit his lip, studying Undertaker seriously for several long, tense seconds. He sat up slowly, still clutching his beloved's hand, the fresh memory of what had just happened nagging at him badly.

"But, what if..." Grell's voice hitched a bit, and he cleared his throat, pausing for several seconds before continuing on, his voice still somewhat even. "What if you... you know...?"

"I've got a feeling that the worst is over with, though I'm far from well." Undertaker answered simply, his voice lowering in volume as he spoke. "I'll... get better..."

Grell let out a small, shrill sound of fear and shook Undertaker gently, earning a startled, irritated yelp of pain in return.

"Grell!" Undertaker gasped breathlessly, looking up and giving him a bit of a dirty look despite himself, as his back was now sending stabbing pain through his body, and his side was radiating agony with a passion. "What's the big idea?"

"Sorry!" Grell squeaked, covering his mouth with his hands and pulling away quickly. "You scared me!"

Undertaker's eyes softened when he noticed the shamed tears beading in Grell's eyes, and he was swamped with guilt for snapping at him. He sighed softly and squeezed Grell's hand gently, the cold metal of his ring pressing gently against Grell's fingers.

"I'm just tired, Grell." He said, closing his eyes again and stroking the back of Grell's hand with his thumb. "Very tired. But I promise I'm only napping."

Grell looked down at him, unsure, and his strained, worried silence told Undertaker this. He slit his eyes open, pulling Grell's hand forward and giving it a gentle kiss.

"I told you I wouldn't leave as long as you wanted me here, didn't I?"

Grell looked down, his heart thudding with emotion once more. He squeezed Undertaker's hand gently in return, then reluctantly pulled his own away, admitting defeat.

"Yes." He answered softly, his eyes downcast. He was still utterly terrified of losing Undertaker, and any fool worth his gold knew that promises couldn't always keep Death at bay.

"Well, I'm not one to break promises." Undertaker said wearily, his voice laden with the oncoming gift of sleep. "Don't worry about it."

"I won't make you leave the room, Grell." Ronald added meekly, giving Grell a small, reassuring smile, determined to put his friend at ease. "It's not a big infirmary. Even if you walked all the way across, you wouldn't be more than twenty feet away from him. You'd know if anything happened, and there's two of us to keep an eye on him. Three eyes are better than one, right?" He said with a grin, not afraid to use his own condition as a joke for Grell's sake.

This realization finally put Grell at ease, and he relaxed in earnest, returning Ronald's smile, though his was still slightly strained.

"Thanks, Ronnie."

"No problem." He said, reaching over and passing a spare blanket to Grell. Grell took it from him with a nod of thanks, understanding his intentions. He then turned and snapped the blanket out over Undertaker, smiling as Undertaker sighed softly and slipped into sleep at last as the blanket settled over him.

"You know, he's not so bad." Ronald said softly, grinning over at Grell. "I thought he was kinda scary at first, but he's pretty cool when you get to know him."

"Don't let him hear you say that." Grell giggled, wrapping an arm around Ronald in an affectionate hug. "He wants you to think he's creepy. It's like, the point of his existence."

Ronald chuckled and pawed Grell off lightly, smirking at him and nodding toward the other side of the infirmary.

"Okay then, Nurse Grell, time to get down to business. Do me a favor and go get the other nurses up. We've got work to do."

xxx

RONALD IS A BOSS.

...Finally. XD

Anyway, Eevee Tofu's OC Laura was, of course, the first one killed in battle. If any of you want to see her, Eevee linked me to a piece of art she completed. :3

It can be found here: .com/#/d34d63t

But, of course, since FF doesn't like links, it's by EeveeTofu on dA and it's called "Kuro OC - Laura".

She's a charming girl, really. 8D

Also, some more adorable fanart from motomori. This one is called "hurt" and can be found at dA, of course, or you can use the URL if you're patient enough to mess around with it: .com/art/hurt-188828620

I love that piece. :3 It's so cute. I wanna pet Ronald's hair.


	34. A Long and Lonely Night

Grell saluted dutifully, then turned and limped off across the infirmary, to where the three nurses who were still able to move about without visibly spouting blood were sleeping soundly, because, like most of the other patients in the infirmary, they had dropped back off to sleep after realizing that the intruding demons weren't a threat. Ronald turned away as Grell began rousing the three by nudging them and speaking in a low yet urgent tone. He readjusted his position next to William, his eye clouding with worry as William's mumbling began anew. He knew he'd be unable to get William's vest off without disturbing him further, and the way William was trembling and whimpering softly amidst delirious mumbles, as though he were in pain despite being out of his mind with fever, Ronald didn't want to risk it. Instead, he simply opened the vest and let it lay, then carefully began to unbutton William's shirt, thinking ruefully about the ironic fact that he'd always wanted to do it, but certainly not under _these_ circumstances.

As he carefully pulled the tattered white fabric of the dress-shirt aside, he literally winced when the ghastly wounds finally met his eyes. Four deep, jagged scratches ripped across his chest, and even Ronald's medically ignorant eyes could tell that _that's _what Sebastian had meant by "infection"; the wounds were an angry, violent red against his ghostly pale skin, and were badly inflamed, and looked incredibly painful. As Ronald watched, a drop of blood leaked from the second-lowest scratch and sluggishly moved down William's chest and over his side, leaving behind a shining, dark red trail. Apparently, his heavy panting was keeping the deep, diseased wounds open, and it was only serving to make his condition worse. The most heartbreaking thing about it was that William didn't even know he was hindering his own healing, much less able to stop.

"Oh, Will..." Ronald whimpered softly, covering his mouth with one shocked hand, unable to stop staring at the ghastly marks. Anger against Resmodus flooded his veins like magma, and if it were at all possible, Ronald would have resurrected him from the dead and torn him to pieces himself. Had William really ignored his own injuries this long? Long enough to end up bedridden with a fever that would have probably killed most mortals by now? Had he really put those who disregarded and disrespected him so much first, or had he simply been hiding weakness?

"Of course he put us first," Ronald breathed to himself, banishing all doubt from his mind without question as his eyes glanced up again, taking in the purple-blue bruise on William's jaw, where he had been kicked, and the wicked but mercifully uninfected wounds at his shoulder. His eyes were watering with emotion as he looked down at William with both awe and grief, and his respect for him grew that much more. "He's _always_ done that. He's just never gone so far before..."

His hand reached down and brushed William's uninjured cheek in a careful, loving caress, and he swallowed his tears stubbornly, refusing to let them fall. William wouldn't cry in his place, as he knew that solved nothing, and only served to show his fear. William would get up and get the job done, without even batting an eye. Therefore, since he was taking William's place, Ronald would do the same, and he'd like to see someone try and stop him.

Ronald looked up as a shadow fell over the two of them, and a male nurse let out a small cry at the sight of the Head Shinigami, his startled eyes darting from William to Ronald and then back again.

"Get over here!" He whispered loudly, so as not to wake the sleeping patients again, and turning to the other two, who were both female, motioning vigorously with his hand. "It's William, alright! Grell wasn't kidding! I didn't even notice when the demon brought him in!"

The nurses bustled over immediately with tiny, worried cries of their own, a tired-looking Grell limping after them. Grell met Ronald's eyes over the heads of the medical team, and they shared a sympathetic look; it was only about six in the morning, but it felt like they'd been awake for days on end, despite the fact that they'd both caught a bit of sleep in between things. They were both simply exhausted beyond words, but there was still work that needed to be done.

_William was awake for a week straight without any breaks, _Ronald's conscience chastised. _What are you complaining about? Get to work!_

"Please move, Sir." One of the female nurses said quietly, startling him out of his thoughts and giving him a strained and yet bashful smile. "Sorry, but there's only so much room, and you're in the way."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Ronald said, struggling to return the smile and then standing up himself. Maneuvering around the nurse and taking a few unsteady steps, he crossed the distance between the two beds and then stood next to Grell, who was sitting on the edge of Undertaker's bed with a glum expression as he watched the nurses.

"Thank you." The nurse said politely, bowing to her superior respectfully, then reaching into her bloodied apron and handing him a fresh icepack. She had been using it herself to help with the pain of a scythe wound on her mid-thigh, but by the looks of it, the blond before her needed it more, and it would have gotten in the way of her work now, anyway. She frowned with friendly concern, and her eyes swept over him pointedly, in a sort of polite chiding. "Please take care of yourself."

"I don't want to cause you guys any more trouble. I'll keep it in mind." Ronald answered wearily, a wane smile on his lips. The nurse smiled back, then turned and began helping her companions, who were talking in low, worried voices and moving with in a fast, urgent way. Ronald couldn't see William anymore, as they blocked his line of view, but somehow the sound of the nurses muttering amongst themselves made him feel even worse than when he saw William's condition, and he struggled to tune them out, his eye staring hollowly at the floorboards as he pressed the icepack to his temple.

"Ronnie?" Grell asked quietly from beside him, and Ronald looked up, maneuvering the icepack to his cheek absently as he studied Grell, who was staring at his own feet, looking more downtrodden than Ronald had seen in a long time. The blond frowned deeply, clearly concerned.

"Yes?"

"...Do you think William meant to do that? I mean, do you actually think he... that it wasn't just the fever?" Grell asked softly, his voice low and sad as he touched the cheek where William had slapped him. Ronald frowned, noticing that there was a budding bruise there, and he didn't miss Grell's slight wince as his fingers graced the tender spot.

He sighed softly and sat down next to Grell, making the bed springs creak quietly. Touching his shoulder gently, Ronald gently kneaded his fingers into the strained muscles there, rubbing the tension away with surprisingly skilled fingers.

"I don't think so." He said earnestly, smiling softly as Grell leaned against him for support, the chains of his glasses bumping against Ronald's shoulder. "You saw him, he wasn't acting himself, at all. Then he went and collapsed not two minutes later from the hottest fever I've ever seen, which just further proves my point. He's never done anything like that before Grell. I mean, sure, he smacks us around sometimes, but he doesn't _smack _us around, you know?"

Ronald smiled when Grell let out a small, weak laugh, and then hugged Ronald gently, his bright red jacket contrasting sharply with Ronald's white shirt and blond hair. Ronald gave him a few affectionate pats on the head, his smile straining with worry. He didn't like seeing his friends hurting, and poor Grell had been doing a _lot _of that lately. It was pretty stressing for Ronald to see, and his back was starting to knot up and become sore with all the stress that was piling on his mind.

Grell yawned widely, and Ronald looked over at him as his terrifying teeth fully reveal themselves for a brief second, causing Ronald to shiver as he remembered what had happened to Resmodus. He closed his eye tightly, trying to banish the gruesome thoughts from his mind, and only half-succeeding.

"I'm tired." Grell whined softly, too weary to even drag the complaint out into a proper whine. Ronald couldn't help but smile, and he opened his eye once more and he gently pried Grell off, earning a small pout from his best friend.

"So go to sleep." Ronald scoffed lightly, smiling as warmly as he could at Grell, to show that he was only teasing. Grell, however, looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes, and Ronald frowned, touching his shoulder once again, realizing the mistake he'd just made.

"He's not mad at you, Grell." He said softly, his eyes saddening when a few tears tracked down Grell's face, and a sharp guilt of his own pricked his heart. Why hadn't he thought before speaking? _Gods..._ "He woke up and told you he loved you, good Gods. Don't cry..."

"I nearly let him die." Grell whimpered, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands in an attempt to do as Ronald asked. "I fell asleep and he nearly died. What if it happens again? William isn't here, we'll lose him..."

"Grell, he was just up and talking to all of us, and he had his head on straight. Sure, William's not really... _helpful _at the moment, but you still have the nurses, and I can keep watch while you sleep and make sure he's okay, too. Don't worry about it; if you need sleep, then go to sleep. I'll take care of things. I said I would, didn't I?"

Grell stared at him, chewing his lip, obviously wrestling with himself as he weighed the options. Finally, he stopped chewing and bit his lip decisively, his brow furrowing as he made the difficult choice.

"I... I guess a little nap can't hurt." He said, looking down at his sleeping lover with a pained, yet somewhat longing expression. "Just an hour or two, so I'm actually useful when I wake up. I'm just asleep on my feet right now."

"See?" Ronald said, patting his back (being careful to avoid the claw wounds there) and giving him an encouraging smile. "There you go. You're just making yourself suffer if you're staying awake even when you can't do much to help. What's the point of that?"

"Ronnie?" Grell asked quietly, laying softly and silently down next to Undertaker, being so careful that the sheets hardly even rustled. Undertaker didn't move an inch, and Grell slid a little closer to him, offering the warmth of his body to supplement the warmth that Undertaker had yet to regain.

"Yeah?" Ronald asked, pressing a hand against the bed for support and then standing, swaying slightly as he did so. He was pleased when he noticed that he wasn't swaying quite so badly, however, and he was thanking the Gods that a thing as wondrous as ice existed when Grell spoke again.

"If anything happens to him, I'm going to kill you."

Ronald smiled, a small chuckle escaping him before he actually _looked _at Grell, and caught his eye. The look Grell was giving him was cold, hard, and completely lacking of any sort of humor at all. Ronald's smile died instantly, and he felt a shiver run up his spine as Grell's eyes narrowed the slightest amount, as though daring him to laugh again.

"...You're serious, aren't you?" Ronald asked, his voice just barely able to be heard, as it was now hoarse with undeniable fear. His heartrate picked up considerably as adrenaline spiked in his veins; that was the same look Grell had given Resmodus before "kissing him goodbye".

"Do birds fly?" Grell asked calmly, sliding his eyes closed and nuzzling against Undertaker as though they were discussing kittens, not death threats. Ronald swallowed hard, determined not to show the fear that was racing through his body like poison.

"You realize that I am your superior, whether or not I'm standing in for William? You were demoted, you know." He said, a spark of pride zipping through his chest and mingling with the fear when he managed to keep his voice even, even if he didn't sound as brave as he hoped. Still, better a small victory than none at all.

"So?" Grell asked, shrugging slightly and then finally settling in next to his lover, finding a position that was comfortable. "I've done worse."

And it was true; Grell _had _done worse. The incident with Resmodus had proved that more than anything else, and the horrific, bloody scene stood out in Ronald's mind once more. Grell was playful, mischievous, attractive, and, when tested, as lethal as the average great white shark; with the teeth to match.

He was not one to be messed with, even on the best of days. Not unless you were planning a very long, very painful suicide.

"...We're still friends, right?" Ronald asked, his voice suddenly very timid and wavering in the slightest amount. Oh, what had he done to deserve _this?_

"Well, duh." Grell said, smiling slightly despite the situation. "I'd kill anyone who'd make that promise and then let him die. It's nothing personal, Ronnie. I'm just giving you a fair warning, which is much more than I'd do for most people."

"Grell, I'm sorry, but that's as creepy as hell, and now I'm kinda scared of you again." Ronald said seriously, staring at Grell as though the redhead was about to leap upon him and suck out his blood.

"But now you're going to watch him extra carefully, aren't you?" Grell asked with a small giggle, a clever smirk on his lips.

"...Yes." Ronald said, both impressed and slightly annoyed that Grell's bizarre logic was now making sense. "I suppose I will, considering I'll literally have to deal with Jack the Ripper if I don't."

"Mission accomplished." Grell said with a dainty giggle, and Ronald shook his head increduously, though his heart was still thudding with fear. If he could pick one word to describe Grell, it would be "crazy", hands down.

"Though, I'm only one half of Jack the Ripper. But, I must say that I did most of the work." He said airily, his voice getting quieter as sleep finally began to claim him.

Nope, definitely _not _one to be messed with.

Still crazy, though.

"Sleep tight, Grell." He said, grabbing the soft wool blanket that was folded on a nearby shelf and laying it over his flamboyant maniac of a friend. Grell hugged the covers and gave him a nod of thanks, smiling at him. Perhaps he imagined it, but Grell seemed to look a little apologetic for a second, as though he knew Ronald was scared, but saw it as a necessary evil.

"'Night, Ronnie." Grell yawned again, making Ronald shiver once more as those teeth flashed, before falling silent, his eyes sliding closed.

Ronald breathed out a low. tired sigh, watching Undertaker nervously, as though he'd suddenly begin bleeding from every orifice in the most horrific and violent death in all of history.

Well... _second _most violent, anyway. Resmodus' death would be as hard as hell to beat, no matter how creative you were with your torture methods. Ronald shuddered again at this, then winced as his head gave a particularly painful throb. Bad idea, _bad idea... _He should have learned earlier that sudden, convulsionary movements were a _bad idea._

Chasing these thoughts from his mind as best he could, Ronald turned and observed the nurses, who were, apparently, just finishing up with William. They were just laying William back down, having propped him up in order to clean and patch up his chest and shoulder. Ronald caught a glimpse of fresh, bright-white bandages and a lot of pale, exposed skin as William was laid back down, and he swallowed roughly, wondering how bad the damage was. The trio of nurses disbanded then, and Ronald finally had a clear view of the bed once more.

William's shirt and vest had been removed, and his upper body was exposed, a good deal swathed in thick gauze that crossed his chest and looped over the few smaller, less dangerous scratches on his shoulder. William was still shivering badly, still glazed in sweat, and still extremely feverish, and somehow, removing the ruined clothes made him look even _worse, _and Ronald tore his eye away before he could tear up again. He glanced at William's leg, and saw that they'd also replaced the bloodied guaze there as well, but somehow, it didn't make him feel any better.

The nurse who had given him the icepack, a young raven-haired girl with large, warm eyes that were twin-colored (like all Shinigami) and a build even that was smaller than Ronald's, turned back to him and spoke, sounding tired and upset. Ronald looked up as her mellow, soft voice reached his ears, thankfully jogging his thoughts away from the recent grim events, and the sight before him.

"He's got a very high fever. Probably about 106 or 107 by now." She said, wringing her hands before her as she avoided Ronald's eyes and stared at her once brightly polished but now badly scuffed shoes instead. "The wounds were so deep that they almost broke one of his ribs, and they definitely cracked a few others. We... we're so sorry. We had no idea it was that bad. He said it was just a minor scratch when I asked him if he wanted me to clean it up for him earlier, and that he wanted me to worry about more important things first... H-he told us to just take care of his leg, and then let him get back to work, because he said it was the only thing-"

She cringed slightly when Ronald laid a gentle, understanding hand on her shoulder, then looked up at him with obvious surprise, clearly wondering why Ronald wasn't dishing out a harsh reprimand instead. She stared up at him in awed wonder, and he meant her eyes with a kind, if upset, look of his own.

"It's okay," He said simply, looking over at William's shivering, muttering form as he spoke. "I didn't know, either. None of us did, and he's obviously really good at hiding those sorts of things. You're not in any trouble."

She nodded, a relieved smile crossing her face as Ronald looked back down at her with a kind, patient smile. Normally, an officer of higher rank would have yelled at her until he was hoarse (or, in William's case, just given her a cold stare until she burst into tears and begged for forgiveness) and having a strange higher-up treating her so nicely was very odd, but a pleasant change.

"Will he be okay?" He asked, his smile disappearing abruptly, replaced with a worried chewing of his lower lip. The young nurse's smile slipped away when she saw his worry, and she cleared her throat gently, avoiding his eyes once more.

"Yes," She said, glancing back at William, her eyes softening sympathetically as he let out a particularly sharp whimper of pain, his fingers jerking with spasm, before going still again. "But it may take awhile. If he were anything less than a Shinigami, he'd probably be dead by now, or brain-damaged at the very least. Still, he could be laid up for weeks if we can't get it under control... I'm not going to lie, sir, it's pretty bad, and while he's feverish, his normal healing processes will be slowed down as well, because his body is so busy trying to fight the infection."

Ronald's worried look intensified at this, and he grunted softly, removing his hand from the nurse's shoulder and looking away, not knowing how to respond. He could be laid up for weeks? _Weeks? _Oh, Gods, no. Ronald knew he could never handle_ that..._

"All I can ask is that you do your best." He said simply, finally finding his voice again and taking a seat at the end of William's bed once more. "Which, I certainly hope you were doing to begin with."

She gave him a wane smile, then bowed slightly.

"Of course, sir."

Ronald groaned lightly, rolling his eye, then gave her a bit of a weak grin, which wasn't quite earnest, as it didn't make his eye glow with the friendly, mischievous spark they usually had. It was very rare to see Ronald Knox like this, but right now, he was one of the most stressed-out, nearly depressed Shinigami in the entire Library. It was a drastic change, indeed.

"Call me Ronald, please. I never could stand people referring to me with formalities."

She shot straight back up out of her bow at this, her shimmering black hair whirling about her face. Her two-toned eyes getting huge with earnest surprise, she let out a small squeak of shock, clapping her hands over her mouth.

"Gods above, Ronald, I didn't even realize it was _you!" _She gasped, removing her hands her mouth and blushing crimson. "I'm so sorry!"

Ronald laughed quietly and touched the bruised side of his face with two careful fingertips, the tender flesh thankfully numbed by the cold ice that was now resting against his temple.

"It's that bad, huh?" He asked, his voice lightly teasing as he took the misunderstanding with his usual good humor. "Good lord, I hope none of this is permanent, especially if it's bad enough that my hair isn't even a tip-off."

"No! No! It's not that!" She said, dropping her hands and wringing them in her apron, biting her lip as he face continued to blush crimson. "It's just... I'm surprised you're even up in that state, especially after what happened to you earlier, and giving orders on top of it! It's just so... unlike you, and with the dim light, well, I never thought..."

"It's no problem, Jeana." He laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately with one gloved hand, which was weak with exhaustion. "But, if you really want to make it up to me, there's something you can do for me, because I'm stuck up here."

"Oh, yes, anything! This is so embarrassing!" She giggled bashfully, her cheeks still pink. "I'm so sorry, Ronald. I see you at almost every little party and I still mistook you for someone I didn't know..."

"Well, it would be very helpful to me if you could get a group together to go and, well..." He sighed, his good mood dampening with heartache as he thought of what it must look like on the floor below. "...Gather the dead and prepare them for burial, and take that attendance sheet over there to keep track of just who... well, I'm sure you understand."

Jeana nodded solemnly, her eyes moistening at this. Ronald patted her shoulder gently, his calm voice quiet and patient, though his own chest ached with grief.

"You don't have to do it, you know." He said sympathetically. "Just find people who are willing to do it instead, and-"

"No, no, it's not a time to be picky." She said, her gentle voice gaining an edge of determination. Scrubbing her eyes and waving her hand dismissively, she stood up a little straighter, showing respect to Ronald, as he was, still, her superior. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you." Ronald said, smiling down at her sadly. He then motioned for her to come forward, and then leaned down, intending to exchange his next message much more privately.

Her eyes widened when he finished whispering his idea to her, and she pulled back, staring at him as though he'd exploded into candy and then reformed as a God.

"That's a marvelous idea..."

"First thing's first, though." He said, smiling halfheartedly. "We have to make preparations, no matter how painful they may be."

"Yes, Ronald." She said, bowing obediently, then bustling busily out of the infirmary, leaving Ronald alone to watch over the many sleeping Shinigami there.

It was going to be a long and lonely night.


	35. A Sight to Behold

The minutes ticked by like hours, and time flowed sluggishly for young Ronald, who saw not hide nor hair of anyone else until dawn. Instead, he fought to stay awake in the incredibly still, silent Library, though his body felt like it was weighted down with lead.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he swapped his position from sitting on William's bed to sitting in the hard wooden chair between the two beds, and in this way, he kept watch over both of his superiors with ease. Grell slept for much longer than just the hour he'd promised; to top it off, he was hardly even moving in his sleep, and it made Ronald wonder whether he had died a few times, causing him to stare at Grell intently until he was sure he was breathing. But Ronald, despite the fact that his social soul was crying out in need of company and his head was pounding from all the excitement, allowed Grell to sleep; the crimson-clad Shinigami needed it much more than he'd thought, and it showed in the way that he looked exhausted even while he was sleeping. Ronald could only guess at how tired psychotic rages must make a person, but considering how quickly Grell had fallen asleep, and how deeply he slept, Ronald assumed it was pretty damn tiring, indeed. Therefore, he was just going to let a sleeping dog lie; he wasn't willing to risk his temper, anyway, as Grell wasn't really a morning person.

He leaned his head back against the chair, the chilly meltwater from the icepack that was now pressed at his temple leaking into his glove as he sat and stared at the darkness. It made his fingers soaking wet and freezing cold, and he shivered gently at the icy pain it induced. After about a half hour of struggling to ignore the discomforts of his melting icepack and concentrate instead on just what he'd do to keep things in order until William woke up, he finally removed the gloves and tossed them aside, ridding himself of the freezing meltwater menace of the sodden material. A small sigh of exasperation left him as the icepack now bit directly into the flesh of his fingers, and he closed his eye, wishing the throbbing pain in his head would hurry up and go away so he could get rid of the bothersome yet needed chill at his temple. He had to be completely honest and say it was the worst injury he'd ever suffered, and therefore, the worst pain he'd _ever _felt in all his afterlife. The pain itself frustrated and exhausted him nearly to the point of tears, and it was extremely stressing to know that there was nothing he could do about it, and that he'd just have to deal with it for the next several days.

He glanced over at the pill bottle by the bedside once more, very tempted to take a second dose several hours early, which was, of course, against orders. They had numbed his pain considerably before, but then he'd been up and running around and dragging bosses who weighed as much as he did (and then some) all over the place, and his headache had returned tenfold. Come to think of it, that had _probably _made it a little bit harder for the pills to do their job.

Oops.

Ronald stared at the pill bottle longingly for several seconds, then forced his gaze away and closed his eye with a soft sigh, determined to resist the allure of it. What if he overdosed and ended up having another seizure? Or made himself so sick that they'd have another high-priority patient to worry about? Oh, Gods, and then Grell, _Grell, _of all people, would be in charge. Ronald snorted to himself at this; Grell being in charge for even a _day _would probably mean everything in the Library spontaneously being painted red, right down to the books, and the standard business uniforms being changed to frilly dresses; bright red ones.

"Let's avoid that." He muttered to himself, shuddering at the thought of having to wear anything like Grell's infamous Choir-Boy uniform. He glanced over when Undertaker shifted in his sleep, his mind locking back into Reality, and William made another incoherent mumble, sounding as though he were a little miffed with something. Ronald smirked slightly to himself and laid back again, his eyes still closed and his arm propped against the wall, the icepack steadily soaking down his hair and freezing his fingers.

"Whatever you guys say." He mumbled sleepily, just barely noticing that the pain was ebbing off to a dull throb instead of a constant searing ache. "Whatever..."

The icepack slowly fell to the floor as Ronald's slick fingers loosened their grip, and Ronald fell into a deep and dreamless sleep before it even touched the ground.

000

Gentle sunlight warmed his face and lit his eyelids to a red-pink, and he shifted, one eye wearily blinking open, then squinting slightly at the bright light.

Ronald sat there for a second, his eye half-lidded as he basked in the nice, sleepy haze that had clouded his mind, and soaked in the late-morning sunlight, content. His eye was just sliding closed to resume his sleep once more when he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and he sat bolt-upright, a loud gasp leaving his lips. He then let out a loud cry when agonizing pain clapped through his head like thunder, and he doubled over, resisting the urge to vomit as the room began to tilt and spin crazily, and his head began pounding as though someone was insesently beating him with a hammer.

"Ronniiiiiiiiie!" An all-too familiar voice whined from the left, and he heard the creak of bedsprings and the sound of well-loved heels, then felt Grell's comforting hands on his shoulders as Grell's shadow finally loomed over him. Ronald groaned weakly in response and put his head between his knees, and breathed deeply, trying to stop the nausea. It was then that he noticed the woolen blanket that had been draped over him, and he realized it was the one he'd laid over Grell the night before. Now, however, it was threatening to smother him, and he pulled himself back up a little, swaying with vertigo.

"Guuuh..." Ronald groaned, shutting his eye tightly and gagging, his teeth clenched hard. _"Fuck... _Grell, what time is it?"

"Time for your next dose of pills, Ronnie, that's for sure." Grell said in a surprisingly motherly way, removing his hands from Ronald's shoulders. Ronald breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes still shut tight, and he heard the sound of the pill bottle rattling. His head swimming, he slowly opened his eye again when Grell kneeled before him, and he raised his head just enough to look at Grell, his face pale and drawn.

"Are you okay?" Grell asked with a worried pout of his lips, two pills cupped in his right hand. "You don't look so good, Ronnie, and you're starting to worry me. " He said, making a face as he studied Ronald's bruises, now up-close and personal and in broad daylight. "Geez..."

"I'm o-okay." Ronald stuttered, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to sit up straight and lean back against the chair once more. "Oh Gods, I fell asleep, didn't I? I'm so sorry Grell, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it, Ronnie." Grell said soothingly, pressing one pill to Ronald's lips to silence him. "I woke up when you dropped your ice pack, so we sorta just changed shifts. It's no big deal."

Ronald swallowed the pill, then opened his mouth and allowed Grell to place the twin on his tongue, too dizzy to trust himself with using his limbs yet, lest he accidentally smack one of them. He swallowed the second pill as well, before he spoke again, unable to hide the obvious relief in his voice.

"Judging by the fact that my throat is still intact, I take it Undertaker's still alive?"

"And kicking." A gruff voice answered from Ronald's left, and he looked over at Undertaker, who looked back at him with a clear, friendly eye and a small smile. "Though, not really. I'd rather eat a bowl of spiders than kick right now. It's just not worth it."

"That's so _gross!"_ Grell groaned melodramatically, pouting over at Undertaker and making a disgusted face. "I don't care what you say, I'd _never _kiss you again if you did that! Ugh..."

Undertaker smirked back at Grell, winking at him, and Grell stuck his tongue out at him childishly. Ronald smiled and chuckled fondly, despite the fact that another bolt of jealousy shot through him at the sight of their flirting. In all honesty, he would have killed to have something like the two of them had; and it wouldn't be for work, either.

Speaking of work...

He glanced over at William, getting his hopes up for the briefest second before having them dashed in the same instant. William was still out cold, but, thankfully, his shivering had stopped... if only for the moment. Tuning out the sounds of creaking bedsprings and a kiss that was just a little too intimate for the setting behind him, Ronald placed a gentle hand on William's forehead. He was both very disappointed and very worried to find that he was still as hot as a summer day in India; clearly still very much under the influence of his fever. Ronald's spirits fell like a stone, and his eyes saddened as he studied the dressings around William's heaving chest, which had been soiled with blood overnight.

"He's not much better, is he?" Grell's quiet voice asked, and Ronald looked back over at them, taking his hand from William's forehead as he did so. Grell was sitting close to Undertaker, absently toying with a tress of ghostly silver hair as he fixed Ronald with a small, sad frown. Undertaker's hand was laying on Grell's thigh affectionately, the jade ring on his finger glittering in the light of the sun that shone through the large window behind them. Undertaker was frowning, his gaze locked on William, and Ronald nodded sadly.

"He stopped shivering, at least, but he's hot as hell, and-"

"Book..." William mumbled from beside Ronald, shifting feverishly as he did so. Ronald looked over again and bit his lip hard, wishing more than anything that William would wake up, as the shifting suggested. However, William went still as stone once more, save for his rapid, fevered panting, and Ronald could tell that he was still very much worse for wear.

"...And he keeps prattling on about a book. I've got no idea what he's talking about, but it must be pretty important if he keeps on repeating himself like that."

"Ah," Undertaker said sagely, and Ronald pretended that he hadn't seen Undertaker squeeze Grell's thigh playfully, just to make him jump. "I know exactly what he's talking about, and it's all taken care of."

"Well, just what is it he-"

Ronald looked up as the ever-noisy infirmary door squealed closed suddenly, and the nurse from last night, Jeana, bustled in. Her hair was slightly askew and her hands were clasped behind her, as though she was hiding something. Ronald blinked in mild surprise, and she hurried forward, her cheeks tinted pink with exertion from the dash she had made up the stairs.

"Ronald, everything's been taken care of." She said politely, bringing forth one hand and handing the attendance sheet to Ronald, her face dimming a bit as she did so. "We... we counted the casualties at eighty three, including two higher officers who would have lived in your Wing, Ronald." She teared up a bit then, and Ronald stared at her as she blinked back tears, his eye widening a bit. "Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries died in each other's arms, it seems. We found a demon torn to shreds nearby, and his wounds looked like something Eric's scythe would have inflicted. It looked as though Alan had an attack during the battle, and was stabbed through the chest while he was down... Eric's wounds were... were self-inflicted..." She said, her voice cracking on the last word. "He was hugging Alan so tightly, even though they were both long gone..."

Ronald covered his mouth with his hand, too stunned to speak, and averted his gaze to the floor, shocked and incredibly saddened by the news. Grell let out a low, pitiful whimper, and Undertaker clasped Grell's hand tightly, looking grim and uneasy. Silence reigned for several seconds before Ronald cleared his throat softly, doing his best to keep his emotions under control, and spoke again, his voice hoarse and dry with everything he was suppressing.

"I hope they'll be buried side-by-side?"

Jeana smiled sadly and wiped the tears from her cheeks, one hand still behind her back. Ronald bit his lip, finally raising his still-useful eye to look at her.

"I made sure of that personally, Ronald. They'll be buried in the center of the entire procession, right in front of the shrine. They deserve a special spot for the loyalty they showed both the Library and each other, I'm sure you'll agree..."

Ronald smiled weakly in agreement, and he shifted slightly, happy that something was finally going in the right direction. Grell was giving him a quizzical look, wondering what the hell they meant by "procession", "burial", and "shrine", and Undertaker looked very intrigued indeed, as his head was cocked curiously, and he had a thoughtful finger on his lips. Ronald simply smiled at them in a "you'll see" sort of way, then turned back to Jeana, his voice slightly calmer, less gruff, but still with a sharp edge of grief.

"Excellent, Jeana. Thank you so much. What about the wind?"

She rubbed the back of her head with her exposed hand, and Grell began leaning sharply to one side, trying to see just what in the hell she was hiding behind her back. Ronald ignored this, however, and he frowned a bit when Jeana hesitated, worried that he may have gotten his hopes up a little too soon.

"It's on and off," She said, tapping her lip with one finger and screwing her eyes up thoughtfully. "It's been changing every hour or so since eight, but it's just about right right now, and it should hold steady long enough for the funeral. Is that okay?"

"It'll have to do, and it's not quite up for you to decide, anyway." He said, crossing his legs absently as he studied the wall. "So don't worry your pretty little head about that. Still, were you able to get what I asked for?"

She nodded, blushing slightly from his compliment, and she brought her free hand around, producing a bouquet of beautiful, deep red roses that were very fresh and healthy looking.

"It's funny. It's not often the guy asks the girl for flowers." She said teasingly, with a friendly wink and a giggle at her superior. Grell's eyes got huge at the sight of the flowers, and Undertaker looked very surprised himself, his brilliant green eye shimmering with a mixture of confusion and even more intense curiosity. Just what was this kid up to? It would make much more sense if _he _were the one giving flowers, he had to agree with that, but why was he not only receiving them, but _asking _for them? Besides, didn't he have a fancy for William...?

This was getting weirder by the second.

"It's not usually how I do things, either." Ronald said, still grinning when she handed him the roses with a small, polite curtsy. "But I'll make an exception. Still, as lovely as these are, I don't think it will be enough..."

She smiled as though he'd just said something utterly ridiculous, then put her fingers to her mouth and made a brief but very shrill whistle, causing the eyes of a few residents to open and glower with displeasure. Ronald winced and clutched at his head as the noise seemed to pierce directly into his injured skull, and Grell jumped a mile, making Undertaker grunt with pain as the bed jarred. Jeana ignored all of this, however, and the infirmary door swung open once more. The two other nurses pushed in a large, wooden crate that was sealed with a thick plywood top, and Jeana nodded her thanks to them. They saluted and walked straight back out, seeming to be in a hurry for something.

Ronald stared at the crate, his smile growing painfully into a small grin, and Jeana gave him a surprisingly wicked smirk of her own; a drastic change from the bashful little nurse she'd been up to this point.

"I pulled a lot of strings to get these so quickly, Mr. Knox, that and the coffins. You'd better appreciate this; I even had to steal some of it."

Ronald laughed softly and knocked on the top of the crate, seeming to be very pleased indeed.

"Oh, I always appreciate your help, Jeana. But this is honestly the most impressive thing thus far. They're fresh?"

"Just plucked this morning."

"You know you're going to have to compensate what you took?" He said, wagging a finger at her, though the small smile on his lips gave away the fact that he wasn't angry in the slightest.

"Of course."

"Excuse me," Grell cut in, looking very confused and even a little offended that he'd been left out up to this point. "But what the hell is going on, Ronnie? And why don't I know about it? We tell each other _eveeeerythiiiing!_ You're breaking our rule!" He pouted, crossing his arms and scowling lightly at his friend. Undertaker suppressed a chuckle, and Grell swapped his scowl down to him instead.

"You'll see." Ronald said with a devilish smirk, tossing the bouquet to Grell, more to get him to shut up than anything. "Be careful with those, we'll need them in perfect condition." He said, then looked back at Jeana as Grell began to admire the lovely flowers with a wide, pleased grin, his eye bright and curious. "So, when's it starting?" Ronald asked, pulling back the sleeve of the brutalized, bloodstained dress shirt and glancing down at his watch.

"Ten minutes, at noon, like you said." She answered, fidgeting with her apron and becoming the shy nurse once more. "Are you sure you're comfortable staying up here, Ronald? It's so far..."

"Of course I am, Jeana. Besides, this would be useless if I weren't up here to do my own part." He said, tapping the crate to emphasize his point. "And my friends are up here. I need to keep my eye on them, and it would just be rude to go down without them. I doubt I could make it down the stairs without ruining the other side of my face, anyway."

She nodded understandingly, then, to Grell's utter amazement, reached into her apron and pulled out a crowbar, as though she'd been given a signal to do so. Undertaker's eyebrow was steadily creeping up his forehead, despite the pain that shot through his face because of it, and Grell was staring at her as though she'd begun speaking another language, but Ronald didn't looked surprised at all. He watched calmly as Jeana hooked the end the crowbar under the lid of the crate and gave it a single, mighty heave, causing the lid to lift up with a bit of cracking and the dull _duhmp_ of nails being ripped from wood. Immediately, the strong smell of roses wafted out and spread throughout the room, filling the musty old infirmary with the sweet, peppery scent of the flowers.

Ronald looked inside and grinned with satisfaction, reaching a hand into the crate and pulling out a large scoop of rose petals that ranged from light pink to deep, bloody red.

"Perfect." He breathed, as though the flower remnants were the most amazing, entrancing thing he'd ever seen.

"I'm so happy you think so." Jeana said with a pleased blush, and she then bustled over to Undertaker, bowing deeply as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, but would you mind if I opened that window behind you? It's important."

Undertaker resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the formality that he found so ridiculous, and he simply smiled instead, waving his hand airily.

"Not at all, m'dear."

She blushed harder at this, then stretched out, pushing open the large Bay windows that were set into the wall that Undertaker's bed was pressed against, a few inches above his bed. She received a very nasty glare from Grell in the process, and she paled slightly and pulled away quickly as soon as the windows were fully open, obviously wondering what she'd done, but not daring to ask questions. Grell scowled darkly as she turned back to Ronald with a small smile, though she was obviously scared of the reaper behind her; and with good reason.

"If that's all, Ronald, I should be going. I volunteered to help out with the procession, and they'll be expecting me."

"Feel free to go, then." Ronald said with a smile, shifting the rose petals about in his hands and letting them fall back into the crate. "Thank you so much for the help, I owe you several favors for this. Before you go, though, could you open the other windows, and prop up anyone who wants to see? I don't want them to miss this."

"No problem!" She said, bowing to the three of them and then flouncing off to the other side of the infirmary to do as she was asked, the other patients in the infirmary all giving both her and Ronald odd looks, but not one of them protesting the sunshine and breath of fresh air that was offered as she opened all the windows and propped the residents up with pillows. After a few minutes of this (and skipping Undertaker's bed because, frankly, she was quite sure that Grell would prefer to do it, and would be _very _upset if she laid a hand on him. She ignored William's bed, too, as he was the only one who was completely unconscious.) she finally turned and bustled out of the infirmary, the door squealing closed behind her.

"Why'd you do that?" Grell demanded in a hiss as soon as the door was closed, giving Undertaker a venomous look. "That's your name for _me!_ Not other random women!"

Undertaker looked calmly back at him, undisturbed, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

"No, it's not." He said, twining a long lock of Grell's crimson hair around his finger, not having a care in the world.

"Yes it is! Don't make up stupid excuses!" Grell snapped, looking very hurt and offended indeed. Ronald was just about to say something (because it looked like Grell was getting ready to smack Undertaker, which would have caused a crisis with the way he was messed up) when Undertaker spoke again.

"No, I assure you, you're _m'lady,_ not just m'dear anymore. Consider yourself promoted."

Grell blushed hard at this, and there was a mischievous, fond glint in Undertaker's eye as Grell's hard glare softened into a look of pure, sweet adoration. Undertaker pulled Grell's hand forward and kissed the back of it affectionately, causing Grell to fidget and giggle gently. Ronald looked away, swallowing envy, and Undertaker let out a weak rasp of laughter.

"I'm crazy, not stupid." He said, tapping Grell's nose lightly with one finger. "I'd never make such a foolish blunder, _m'lady."_

"Jerk." Grell mumbled, crossing his arms and causing the bouquet to rustle softly. It was obvious he didn't mean it, however, as his cheeks were still red, and he squeezed Undertaker's hand lightly, his thumb tracing affectionately across his knuckles. It was all the apology Undertaker needed.

Grell looked up as the deep, mournful sound of organs floated through the window, and he looked to Ronald, who was now standing and pushing the surprisingly light crate closer. The blond was wearing a tight, sad smile as he looked through the window, and Grell turned to follow his gaze, and he was stunned by what he saw.

He stared for several long seconds, his mouth hanging open with shock. Undertaker, unable to see what was going on from his low position on the bed, shifted and tried to raise himself enough to see outside. He groaned with pain as his stitches pulled badly, and Grell looked back down at him, blinking in surprise.

"Don't do that!" He gasped, pressing Undertaker back down with gentle, firm hands. He quickly began readjusting Undertaker's pillows, and then grabbed an extra that was lying nearby, propping him up the final two inches he needed to be able to see out the grand windows.

What he saw was a sight to behold, and it was absolutely magnificent.


	36. All That Really Matters

The window overlooked the training grounds where the false, concrete replica of London was located, along with the wide, blank expanse of concrete before it. The training grounds faced a part of the back wall of the Library, and two towers flanked either side of it, separating it from the rest of the massive expanse of the Library wall and creating a sort of mile-wide half-circle that the training grounds occupied. The infirmary was located in the lower-middle of the leftmost tower (the rooms above, like most of the upper half of the Library, widely unused, except for the sake of book storage), and Undertaker's bed was before one of the many windows overlooking the courtyard, possessing a clear view of what was going on below.

Across the flat expanse before the mock-city, eighty three brightly polished oak coffins were lined up, all adorned with what appeared to be fine black silk studded with more fresh, beautiful roses, all of them the deepest, boldest red possible. On the top of each coffin, a death scythe glinted in the sun; the scythe that had belonged to the individual Shinigami inside each of the caskets. In front of the line of coffins, standing with their backs to the massive Library wall, were the Shinigami who were able to attend in person. They were all dressed in black; sweeping black dresses and veils for the ladies, fresh suits (that were somehow even more formal than the regular attire) and solemn black hats for the men. The back doors to the Library were wide open, and the deep, heartbreaking organ music wafted out from there and carried clearly across the courtyard. They all stood in quiet attendance, not a single one of them saying a word or making a move as they paid their last respects.

The most incredible thing, however, was the false-city itself.

Or, to be specific, one structure in particular.

At the very front of the city, and precisely dead center, stood a replica of the Tower of London. It was the highest, most detailed architectural piece in the entire city, and it was second-only in size and craftsmanship to the Library itself. Before, the side of it had been the same off-white, carefully sculpted concrete as the rest of the city. However, even from their high perch above the proceedings, the spectating Shinigami could see the new, major difference; on the front of the tower, facing the Library, a large, silver plate that reached nearly ten feet up the side of the tower glittered in the sun. It didn't take much to guess what was on it, and at the sight, Grell's eyes shone with awe, and even Undertaker was struck speechless.

"Oh, Ronnie..." Grell whispered, wrapping Ronald in a tight hug and nuzzling his two-toned hair gently and yet affectionately, careful to avoid his bruises. "You had their names engraved on it, didn't you?"

"And their pictures." Ronald said with a blush, carefully prying Grell off before Undertaker could get mad at him again. Undertaker, however, was smiling at him as much as his wounds would allow, and didn't seem to mind in the least. "Lewie is one of the maintenance guys and a good pal of mine, and he's actually a really good artist. He knew where some old, leftover silver plates were lying around from when the Library was first built, and, well... I guess we finally put them to good use, huh?"

"Ronald, I'll certainly say you've definitely got a talent for quick thinking and keeping things organized." Undertaker said hoarsely, staring down at the proceedings below with respect in his eyes. "I know funerals, and usually it takes _days _to do something this big. You did this in twelve hours? I swear to the Gods themselves, I wouldn't believe it if I weren't staring at it this instant."

"I just told people what to do. I didn't actually _do _anything." Ronald said in a mumble, shrugging sheepishly and averting his eyes. "If anything, everyone _else _deserves the thanks, not me. I just picked up the talent for setting up events from years of constant party planning."

Undertaker shook his head slightly and gave Ronald an appraising look, clearly impressed with his handiwork.

"Like I said, I know funerals. It's hard to keep all these things straight, but this... This is _perfect._ I'll be sure to lecture the next person who says you didn't learn anything from what you do with your free time."

Grell hugged Ronald again and scrubbed at his eyes, a watery smile on his face. Ronald was blushing from the compliments, and he patted Grell's shoulder, reminding himself that Grell had injured his back in the battle.

"You did a good job, no matter what you say." Grell said, letting go of Ronald again and laying back next to Undertaker to watch the events. "I wish William could see this... He'd be so proud of you, Ronnie."

"Yeah..." Ronald mumbled absently, glancing back at William with a downcast expression. William simply laid, unresponsive, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he continued to pant, his pale body still soaked with the sweat of fever.

"I wish..."

The organ music came to a slow, wavering halt as the last notes died away, and Ronald looked back out the window, watching the funeral with breath that was bated with eager anxiety. Hopefully, everyone remembered what they had been told to do next, and it would all go smoothly.

A brown-haired Shinigami male removed his hat and placed it against his chest respectfully with one black-gloved hand, then strode forward until he was several feet in front of the others. Two other, slightly taller Shinigami followed him, removing their own hats as well and bowing their heads respectively as they approached the coffins. The first man turned, facing the crowd again, the other two flanking his sides silently. He began to speak in a loud yet solemn voice, the Shinigami in the crowd to bowing their heads to think their own private thoughts, pray their own prayers.

"We are here," He began, his back straight and his pose perfect, his hat still clasped at his chest; against his heart. "To remember the lives of those we lost, and to honor their sacrifice in keeping us safe and whole as a work force, as a community, and as a family. They died far too soon and far too suddenly, and it was not what they deserved in the slightest.

"However, their sacrifice was not in vain, as we will take what they laid down their lives to give us, and we shall stride forward with it in order to better both ourselves and those around us in the years to come. Among those loved ones lost: Alan Humphries,"

The trio watched silently as a coffin that was in the center of the long row was carried forward a few feet closer to the crowd by the two tall, strong Shinigami men, who kept their hats at their hearts and used only one hand each on the handles at either end of the coffin. The men balanced the coffin so well and with such careful grace that the death scythe on top did not move an inch, and stayed in place above its resting master. Upon placing the coffin down carefully and quietly, they strode back and waited attentively once more behind the man who was leading the sermon. Undertaker watched particularly closely, his gaze not missing a single detail as he absorbed the sight below. What he saw pleased him, as the mortician and funeral director had yet to see a single flaw in the entire setup.

"Eric Slingby,"

A second coffin, which had been lying right next to the first, was carried forward and laid next to it once more, with the same loving, respectful silence. A few gentle sobs could be heard from below, and Grell scrubbed at his eyes once more, doing his best to hold back his tears. Undertaker reached out and wrapped a comforting hand around his, and Ronald, for reasons the two did not know, reached down and hefted the wooden crate up, trying to get it onto the bed. After a second of struggling with dizziness, the Shinigami managed to get the crate on the bed, right below the window. Undertaker looked at him quizzically, then at the crate currently balanced across the backs of his legs, and Ronald simply gave him a small smile in return, understanding his unspoken question.

"You'll see."

Below, the names were still being read out, a coffin being brought forward with each and replaced a few feet farther up than it had before. Undertaker blinked owlishly, and Grell looked over at Ronald as well, tilting his head as he studied the crate.

"That's not what I was wondering about," Undertaker said quietly, twining a finger absently in Grell's long crimson tresses as he studied Ronald. "What did you mean by 'burying' them? One can't very well bury a Shinigami. Not in a literal sense, anyway."

"And there aren't any graves..." Grell mumbled, leaning down and kissing the corner of Undertaker's mouth and earning a small smile in return. "Just what're you really planning?"

"You'll see." Ronald said again simply, crossing his arms on the windowsill and watching the scene below with a sad sort of relief; relief that it was going well, and relief that the tragic events that had been going on as of late appeared to be over.

He certainly hoped they were.

What Grell and Undertaker were getting at was that after a Shinigami dies, its body will dissipate after exactly twelve hours. Since they never actually had bodies to begin with, their bodies broke down rapidly, but not in the way a human's does. The disintegration of a Shinigami is actually a very beautiful thing to behold, as it is a glamorous sort of death; like the autumn leaves as they turn spectacular colors before falling, lifeless, to the ground. This meant that the coffins, then, were really just temporary containers until the real "burial" began; the release of the deceased Shinigamis' souls.

One by one, the coffins were moved forward, until they were all before the crowd, who had assembled themselves so that they were standing in a neat, horizontal row as well. Finally, when the last name had been called out, and the last coffin was in place, the Shinigami who'd been moving the coffins moved away and rejoined the crowd, and the one leading the sermon spoke again, his voice gruff with emotion. This time, however, when he spoke, the entire crowd spoke with him, and Ronald's heart glowed with pride as they recited what he'd found in William's office.

_"We see the empty beds beside us,_

_and we let the many tears fall,_

_because the only way to make it right is_

_to bring you back with us all._

_We wish to see again your happy faces,_

_and to share you laughter and your fears._

_We wish you could take your rightful places_

_right beside us through the years._

_However much we wish this, though,_

_it just cannot be true._

_But beyond the days of pain and woe_

_we'll always think of you._

_It's almost as hard to see you fall_

_as it is to say goodbye._

_Please know that we will miss you all,_

_as you go away, far above the sky._

_Farewell now, dear friends,_

_and despite what can no longer be,_

_our shattered hearts will surely mend,_

_because you make us proud Shinigami."_

"Perfect..." Ronald whispered, tears in his eyes as he watched all the Shinigami below take a single, simultaneous bow as they faced the coffins, in the ultimate show of respect. "Simply perfect."

"That was _beautiful..."_ Grell whispered breathlessly, covering his mouth with one hand. "Oh wow... Ronnie..."

"The best I've heard." Undertaker agreed solemnly. "All lies and biases aside, that's the best I've ever heard. I'd just like to know where you found it..."

"I'll tell you later." Ronald said, and gave them both a grateful smile. He then nodded down to the proceedings below, gripping the crate with both hands.

"Grell, help me with this, please. Keep the bouquet close, though, we'll need it in a minute."

"What are we doing?" Grell asked, sitting up obediently and setting the bouquet on Undertaker's back (he raised an eyebrow, but made no comment), then gripping the edge of the crate. Ronald simply smiled at him and nodded down toward the massive, grand funeral, while Undertaker readjusted himself absently and watched them with a bright, curious eye.

"Just wait for my signal," Ronald said simply, the two of them hefting the crate up and setting it on the windowsill. "And watch what happens."

"Everyone, your places, please." The sermon-leading Shinigami below called out, dragging the trio's attention back to the ground. At the signal, the crowd immediately moved forward as one, and stood amongst the coffins. Most of them were standing between two coffins, save for those at either end, and they reached out and placed a hand on the coffins on either side of them, waiting. When everyone had settled into their places and all was silent once more, the Shinigami at the head of them all raised a hand into the air.

"Get ready, Grell." Ronald whispered excitedly, gripping the edge of the crate and tilting it slightly. Grell blinked and followed the order obediently, too curious to be even the slightest bit contrary.

"Now!" The sermon-leader called, and the Shinigami all moved as one, pushing the lids off of coffins in a unanimous, perfectly rehearsed motion that was so accurate that all of the coffin lids fell at the same time.

From each and every coffin, a shining, beautiful trail of blue-white sparks slowly began to rise high into the air, dancing and twirling in the gentle breeze like fireflies. The crowd of Shinigami let out a loud cheer that was heartbreakingly bittersweet, as many of them were sobbing and clapping as they did so.

"Go!" Ronald said, tipping the crate and causing the rose petals to pour out. Grell jumped back to attention and obeyed, gasping in awe as the cascade of petals began to float to the ground in slow, graceful dips and twirls. The wind, a gentle, warm breeze, caught them and lifted them up, blowing them forward in a beautiful, sweet-smelling cloud of love and appreciation. The petals intermixed with the sparks, and the result was absolutely magnificent. The sparks stood out vividly against the deep, majestic red of the petals, and the petals were lit up by the light of the trails of sparks as they swirled down like soft, downy feathers. The crowd below let up a small, simultaneous gasp of awe at the beautiful display, and there was yet more applause and cheers as the wind carried them at a gentle, sloping angle that covered the entire procession perfectly.

It was amazing.

Ronald pulled the crate back in and grabbed the bouquet from Undertaker as startled, awed cries continued to ring out from below, the petals continuing to rain down softly and slowly as the sparks rose gracefully into the air. Undertaker was staring, mouth open in surprise, and tears were running down Grell's face as a small, sad smile graced his lips. Ronald, a faint, sad look in his own eyes, gripped the bow of ribbon that tied the bouquet together and pulled it away with a small flourish, tossing the roses out of the window with deft precision.

They fell slightly faster than the petals, and a sudden, stronger gust of wind blew from the side, causing them to land on top of or around the new memorial as the rose petals whipped by at a faster rate. Many Shinigami were now looking up and pointing towards the open window, finally realizing the source of the display, and Ronald waved back down at them, a pleased smile on his lips.

"I was always one to send people away in style, and they were definitely no exception!" He called down, hands cupped at his mouth, and another uprising of cheers and applause spread throughout the crowd. Ronald smiled down at them, then pulled back, watching the conclusion with silent, smiling eyes.

The sparks continued to rise into the air as the last rose petals alighted gently on the ground, and, finally, after several long moments of praise, the released souls were out of sight. The entire occasion was bittersweet; naturally bitter because it was a funeral, but sweet because one thing is known by every immortal in attendance, and it helped to ease the pain.

When an immortal dies, they become a God; be they male or female, good or evil, Wire or apprentice, they join the Gods in order to help time progress, just as a mortal will become a single book in a neverending story. Just as a mortal will be shelved next to its deceased friends and relatives one day, the immortals will join the driving force of the Universe, and they'll never truly leave. Nothing ever truly leaves.

"They've gone to a good place." Undertaker said softly, one hand stroking Grell's cheek and brushing away his tears. "The Gods aren't cruel, just... Gods. They don't intentionally help, but they don't seek to harm, either, just like Life. It's just the way it is, and just the way it always has been, and always will be."

"They just are what they are." Grell agreed, taking Undertaker's hand and holding it against his cheek, giving his lover a gentle smile. "And they just do what they're meant to; keep the Balance. That's their driving force, just as ours is to keep track of the books, and a demon's is to keep the shelves from becoming overstocked, and the wandering souls from becoming bothersome."

"They'll be missed, but they're still with us, because the Gods are everywhere. Besides, the important thing is that they're at peace." Ronald added, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he watched the crowd below begin to clean up. Each was doing their own part by placing a death scythe in the coffin where its owner's body had been, and then carrying the coffins inside with loving, gentle grace that showed all the respect they held for those they lost.

"And that's all that really matters."


	37. Awakening

_The pacing. The pacing never stopped these days._

_William lowered his eyes, his hand trembling gently as he continued to count the slow, pointed steps in the room above him. One, two, three, four, turn, one, two, three..._

_He sighed softly, staring down at what he'd written on the parchment beneath him, the parchment that was once a part of him, then blew across the paper to allow the ink to dry, before closing the notebook and stowing it in the drawer of his desk. He reached into the collar of his thin, white shirt and pulled out the silver key at his neck, slipping it off of his head and locking the drawer with a turn of his wrist and a gentle click._

_One, two, three, four, turn..._

_And then the pacing stopped._

_He looked up at the ceiling, his large, rounded frames sliding down his nose a little as his wide green eyes studied the ceiling anxiously. Absently, he readjusted them, then ran a nervous hand through his tousled hair, unable to ignore his unease._

_He'd better go check on him._

Distantly, a brief brush at his fingers, his hand gently being pried open, soft fingertips against his own...

_He stood, cringing in surprise at the noise of his chair sliding back roughly. He blushed at his own nonsensical, jumpy blunder, then headed for the door, his hand slick and clammy with nerves. He'd never hurt William before, and he'd always sworn he never would. Still, he was... unpredictable, even at the best of times, and William, knowing the true potential of his power, was wisely wary of him nonetheless. It only served to make the young creation twice as jumpy as usual to see him now; in such a state of grief that he was subject to both bouts of tears and anger interchangeably and seemingly at random. He was taking it all very, very hard, and he rarely ate or slept these days. William was in a state of deep, deep mourning as well, but he was doing his best to hide his bitter tears, as his creator had enough on his mind without him to worry about. Instead, he was doing what he had vowed he would do; he was trying to take care of it. Trying to keep it all under control and stitch the pieces back together._

_But, he couldn't help but feel like he was failing, as nothing seemed to be getting any better, no matter how hard he tried. Some days it was too much to just pull himself out of bed and sit up, and he had to use all the willpower he had to just stand._

_He opened the door, his hand slipping a bit on the slick surface of the knob, somehow worsening his distress. He walked out into the hallway of the bleakly silent Wing on the first floor, where he'd set up his humble little office, and glanced upwards to the second-floor balcony. The room there, what had been the guest room when they had actually had the ability to have guests, was where the pacing had been coming from. It was where Undertaker had locked himself away, as his own room was simply too painful to inhabit anymore; pictures of her, their shared knick-knacks, her clothes, her very scent... they all remained in his old room, and stepping one single foot inside simply drove him to the point of psychological meltdowns._

_William took a deep breath, his heart hammering, and then, painfully, leapt to the second floor with a bound that was not and never really had been as graceful as Undertaker's. Still, it was much more elegant than when he had first started out, before he'd gotten any training, even with the massive, angry bruises on his back hindering him, and his legs screaming with every step, and he tried to keep on the bright side and think of his progress, however feeble, as he approached the door._

_It was easier said than done._

Something cool placed in his open hand, and there was the feeling of his fingers being gently folded in again. The cool feeling faded as his overheated flesh warmed it to burning temperatures within seconds, and faded away, to be replaced by a stronger, more noticeable a wet-cold at his brow...

_William pushed the door of open, as he'd always been told that he was welcome as long as the door wasn't locked, and that used to hold true for everyone. The door itself was ajar, so he guessed the invitation was as open as it could get, and didn't hesitate to go inside. It was most likely a subtle plea from Undertaker, anyway, a quiet cry for company and a shoulder to cry on. Wordlessly, William stood in the doorway, surveying the slumped figure in the chair in the center of the room with sorrowful eyes and an aching heart. The room was utterly dark and silent, save for the quiet gasps of his creator as he let what seemed to be an endless amount of agony flow down his face._

Gentle murmurs, so far away that he could never hope to distinguish them. Faintly, he could feel his body moving of its own accord, and a gentle, cool hand pressed itself against his fevered cheek...

_Wordlessly, though he was, once again, feeling frightened, hurt and confused, William approached his creator, looking as calm as he could manage. Undertaker did not look up, did not move, simply sat in silence and wished to die as tears continuously tracked their way down his ruined face._

_William silently wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders that now seemed so weak and frail, as though they were breaking with the weight of the world. He remembered the days that he'd been the one leaning on those shoulders; it seemed like eons ago, when in reality, he would have been doing just that a mere week before. That's just how sudden, how tragic the change was, and William hated it. Abhorred it with every fiber of his being, just like those damned demons... They'd ruined everything, every last little thing..._

_"I'm sorry, William." He whispered, slowly, weakly returning the embrace of his smaller companion after several long, painful seconds, his hands careful as they touched William's torturously painful back. "You weren't meant to see this."_

_William swallowed the knot of emotion that built in his throat, and he would have hugged his creator tighter, had it not run the risk of making those dreadful scars that now covered almost his entire body hurt. His newborn hatred for all things demon flared once again, and it mingled bitterly with misery born of the sight before him._

_"Don't be sorry." He said huskily, running a hand through those silver locks and straightening them absently, hoping to put even the smallest pieces of his creator and best friend back together. "I should be sorry. If I weren't here, none of this would have-"_

_"Don't say that!" Undertaker snapped suddenly, and William let out a small, timid cry of shock as he was shoved back, and he fell the ground suddenly, painfully, landing on his wounded, throbbing back, his torn, aching legs stretched out before him. He was left staring at Undertaker with wide-eyed hurt, and a tremble of fear and pain ran throughout his body as he stared at Undertaker with innocent shock._

Ah, but another, different tremble entirely shook his ever-distant self, and the bizarre euphoria it produced, of being in one place and another at the same time, caused him to mumble a tiny protest, and the cool, wet object was placed against his forehead again...

_Undertaker's fists were clenching and unclenching, and his head was lowered, those brilliant eyes, one of them having nearly been lost in battle, hidden from William, as they often had been ever since the incident. His teeth were bared in a grimace of pain, of physical aches and pure emotional chaos..._

_William was scared. Both for himself, and for his dearest friend, who looked like he might break down into shambles at any second._

_"Don't say that, William, please..." Undertaker whispered, his voice suddenly much softer, his hands relaxing and falling limply to his lap as the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by an exhausted anguish. "You heard them, Will, they would have done this one way or another eventually."_

_"But I was the excuse they needed." William mumbled weakly, his own hands trembling as he stared at the floor, expecting another small act of violence, but still wanting to say his piece. "You should have just let me finish getting rid of myself, and none of this would have happened..." He said, his voice cracking on the last word. "I didn't even fight, anyway..."_

_"William, no..."_

_William's heart broke at the way that already brittle voice cracked, and the next thing he knew, his creator was kneeling next to him, and he was being wrapped in a tight, needing embrace. He held back a sob as he felt his friend trembling against him, and he wrapped his arms around him as well, completely ignoring his own pain, not knowing what to do, but doing what he could._

_"You're all I've got left, Will." Undertaker whimpered, and William glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his vision becoming blurred with emotion as he saw the tears tracking heavily down his creator's face, the fresh, vivid scar causing them to change direction abruptly as they traced along the stitches before succumbing to gravity and dripping from his jaw._

_Oh Gods, no..._

Distantly, he whimpered at this memory, and he heard those faint murmurs again, sounding urgent and worried. Something sharp pricked against his arm, but he could do nothing in response but twitch his fingers...

_"I'm sorry..." Undertaker whispered, cupping the back of William's head and pulling him closer, laying his own chin on the head of his creation's. "But you're all I've got left, Will, don't say that about yourself. It hurts to hear that, it really does. My Gods, you don't know how glad I am that I stopped you that night. I don't know what I'd do without you..."_

_William's eyes overflowed at this, and he bit his lip hard, refusing to let the sobs escape him, even if the tears managed to defy him. No, no, no! He swore he wouldn't do this! That he wouldn't make him worry anymore than he already was...!_

_Why was he failing again? Why?_

_"None of this is your fault." Undertaker whispered, clutching William's shirt with one hand, his entire body still trembling gently with emotion. "None of it, and don't ever think otherwise."_

_William nodded, not knowing what to say, and he simply sat instead, biting back the sobs he so desperately needed to release. The two Shinigami, the last two in all existence, clung to each other, as they literally had nothing else to live for. Still shivering, Undertaker was almost like a helpless puppy, and William was horrified by how the tables had turned; he had always been the helpless one of the two of them, even during the War. Seeing Undertaker like this... it was too much..._

_"I'll fix it." William promised softly, burying his face in the crook of Undertaker's neck, being painstakingly careful of the scar there. "Even if you say it's not my fault, I'm still going to fix it. I swear it."_

_"William..." Undertaker whispered, running a hand through his hair. "You've got no idea just how proud of you I am. You're much more capable than you think."_

_William bit his lip until it a shining bead of blood formed, as knowing what he had to say next caused Undertaker's praise to become hurtful, not encouraging. It felt like being stabbed in the heart..._

_"I think you should retire." William whispered, hiding his face from Undertaker and licking the coppery droplet from the soft flesh of his lip, swallowing tears and sobs and pain. So, so much pain..._

_His elder pulled back abruptly, staring at him with obvious shock, showing him those deep green, wretched eyes for the first time in days. William slowly raised his head and stared back at him for a moment, helpless, then looked away, wiping his tears away with the heel of his hand._

_"That's stupid and we both know it." Undertaker said stiffly, his voice still choked with misery, but somehow managing to be firm and authoritative, causing William's heart to twinge with painful nostalgia. "It's suicide with just two of us here, working alone, and now you want to take over yourself? Just one Shinigami? I know more, William, and I don't mean to sound arrogant, but you need me here and what you're saying is foolish."_

His far-away self suddenly felt like it was being lifted into the air somehow, and a weak, questioning mumble escaped his lips. This small muttering caused the murmurs to begin again, and he found himself becoming frustrated. Why wouldn't they speak up already? Why couldn't he understand them?

_"Look at yourself." William whispered back, finally raising his two-toned eyes and meeting the brilliant gems above him. "You're hurting. We're both hurting, but it's worse for you because you lived here with her, with them, much longer than I did. Seeing it all around you brings up memories, and you're just making yourself miserable. Seeing that... seeing that makes me miserable. I do need you, and I don't want you to go, but it's probably better for the both of us. You can start healing and I can start fixing this whole mess if I know you're healing. I just can't do that when I know you're so torn up like this... I'm so worried about you, all the time..."_

_Undertaker stared down at his companion, and his eyes brimmed with tears once more. He looked away, being the first to break the eye contact now, for the first time ever. William's logic made a painful amount of sense, he had to admit that. But, still... This Library was his home..._

_"What we want and what we need isn't always the same." William whispered. "We both want you to stay, but you need to go, for both our sakes. Please..."_

_"Where do I go, then?" He answered hoarsely, licking his dry lips and swallowing down as many tears as he could, because he was on the brink of uncontrollable misery yet again. "There's nothing left for immortals. The Library, Hell... they've both been destroyed by this, there's nothing..."_

Distantly, his body felt cooler as something wrapped around what seemed like his entire torso was pulled away, and a gentle breeze brushed and cooled his hot flesh, if only momentarily. After a moment, something soft and gentle began wrapping around him once more, causing his already unbearably-hot skin to begin to heat again, and a moan of frustrated discomfort sprang unbidden from his lips...

_"The mortals are untouched by all this." William said softly, grateful that his own tears had ceased, and he was once more calm as he helped soothe his creator. "Once I know I have enough Shinigami, I can take the Bookmark out and get that Realm started again, and you can live among them." He blinked up at him sadly, gently brushing tears from his creator's cheeks like a child would a depressed guardian. "But you'll probably have to do something about your eyes. No human has eyes like that. You would just stand out too much, and down there, that's a bad thing..."_

_Undertaker, to William's immense amazement, grinned his classic, face-splitting grin at this suggestion, despite his wounds, as though it struck him as funny. However, there was a key difference in his grin this time, and it terrified William._

_Normally, whenever he smiled or laughed or joked, his eyes would dance and glitter like a man who had never had a worry or a pain, a fear or a complaint. It was of someone who loved Life and everything in it, and valued love and laughter above all else. Those brilliant, Godly eyes gave away all his joy, and seemingly the joy of the World itself, and it had always overjoyed William to see that, as he knew the man he cared about and respected most was truly and honestly happy, and it was all he could ask for._

_But, this time, that Chesire grin did not reach his eyes. They stayed dead, dull, like a candle whose wick had burned too short and then gone out. There was not even a glint of happiness, much less the dancing, glittering titillation that normally would have been there. Nothing was there but pure and undiluted sorrow._

_William felt his heart break for what felt like the hundredth time that day._

He was falling then, if only in a very far-away, slow motion sense, like a feather that floats lazily down to Earth as its owner flies on through the sky, not noticing its absence in the slightest. When he landed, that suffocating heat was still wrapped tightly around him, and sadly, the impact did nothing to shake it off...

_"I'll hide my eyes, then." He whispered, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "They'll never know. Mortals are stupid beings; comparable to livestock, really."_

_William responded with a tiny, weak smile, and he knew his eyes were just as dead as Undertaker's._

_"You can go, then. Thank you, William." Undertaker said simply, releasing his young companion. "I'm afraid that I'm not quite through... thinking things over."_

_"Okay." William said, pulling back and slowly rising to his feet, chewing his lip like a nervous child as his aching, throbbing back cracked painfully with the motion, and his legs felt as though they'd bleed again. "...You're okay, right?"_

_Undertaker nodded and waved his hand dismissively, though he was ducking his head and hiding his face one more. William lowered his eyes and turned to go, closing the door gently behind him and pretending he didn't hear the low, broken sob that penetrated the air as he left._

_Slowly, feeling as though he were walking through thick, knee-deep mud, William stepped onto the railing and let himself fall to the floor below, landing in a cat-like crouch as his feet touched the tile, pain ricocheting throughout all of his nerves. Dazed and wondering what he'd just done, he started back to his tiny office, bewildered that he'd just forced so much responsibility on himself._

_He paused in the middle of the Wing's hallway, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall, shaking like a leaf as he pressed against the cold, unfeeling marble for support. _

_He remembered, vividly, the battle, in the moments after he'd escaped from the room Undertaker had locked him in, in the moments after he ran out, and saw the first demon make the discovery of the dangerous truth behind the scythes. As he'd watched the first ever death of a Shinigami, watched the man fall, his blood pooling forth like water, he'd heard a loud, ominous creaking behind him, and had just looked over his shoulder in time to see the bookcase falling. He'd dived, unsuccessfully trying to avoid the heavy oak structure as books poured forth and crashed around him, and his scream of agony as he was crushed beneath it had matched up, perfectly, with the horrified screams of the Shinigami who'd just witnessed the death of their kinsman. _

_Chaos had erupted around him, and no one noticed him, the "Little Freak", as the demons had dubbed him, struggle beneath the crushing weight of the bookshelf, hardly even able to breathe as he fought to free himself from the horrible, suffocating compression. When he'd finally realized, after a minute of struggle, that he was trapped, and that his helpless, violent screaming and thrashing about would only bring unwanted attention from the demons, he did all he knew he could do now, as he realized that he'd have to make a far slower, more subtle escape, if he wanted to escape at all; he played dead. To add to the effect, he'd changed his form, just like Undertaker had taught him, and though the change was small, he came to find that it was what had saved his life. He'd changed one fingernail of his left hand, which was closer, as he was pinned up to his neck (though, miraculously, his spine was somehow still whole), and could not turn his head, into a sharp, black claw, and had, very, very carefully, cut a long line across the soft flesh of his throat, just deep enough to draw plenty of blood and leave a visible wound, but not enough to severe his arteries and knock him unconscious. He'd sobbed, loudly, with the pain of the incision, the pain of being crushed, and the utter shame of having to pull such a cowardly, desperate move, and then stifled his tears, changed his claw back to a regular (though bloodstained) fingernail, and laid still, moving his body only very, very slightly now, as he continued to try and worm his way out of his trap._

_He remembered, would always remember, the sounds of his kin screaming in pain and terror around him as he continued to painfully drag himself out, inch by inch, stopping in his tracks whenever a shadow passed over him, whenever there was a scream or a growl or the sound of spattering blood close by. He remembered freezing every muscle in his body at one point, ceasing even to breathe, when a pair of demons had found him, stood over him. One of them had kicked him in the side, through the gap provided by a now-empty shelf, roughly enough to almost make him cry out, and the other spoke with obvious disgust and disappointment._

_"Goddammit!" He'd snarled, spitting on William's back as he'd kicked him in the chin, making the young Shinigami bite his tongue and taste blood, though he'd still stayed as silent as a grave. He'd cracked his eye just the smallest, most minimal amount possible, and had seen the demon's own fiery orbs narrow as he'd studied the wound in William's neck, before turning and stalking away, his friend following after him. "They found the Little Freak before us! I wanted to make him squeal!"_

_William, enraged and hurt beyond all words, had waited several minutes, fearing their return, before beginning his subtle struggle once more. He'd heard the Shinigami begin to shout then, in what sounded like joy, and he'd dared to open his eyes just long enough to see what was going on._

_"Cut the Films! Cut the Films!" Someone was screaming, and his eyes snapped shut again as someone ran by. He'd had no idea what was going on, but, heart pounding in his throat, he'd found a new will, a new energy, and began to fight his way out once more, hoping against hope that that cry had meant that they weren't as doomed as it seemed._

_He'd nearly been free of his prison, nothing but his lower back still caught, when he'd heard her, heard Claudia, let out a scream that had rapidly dissolved into a weak, woeful keen, and he'd looked up to see the legs of a demon dashing around a corner, seen her clutch the knife in her heart, her gorgeous, friendly eyes wide and staring ahead, blindly, as her knees buckled, her silky, flaxen, golden hair tumbling about her as she fell down, went still._

_He hadn't known he could scream like that, like he'd just been torn in two, or cry so hard, so suddenly, but his struggles became violent, as he'd no longer cared if they found him. He'd felt the flesh of his lower back tearing, felt the blood, hot and sticky and runny, pool and overflow, staining his shirt as the white fabric scraped away with his skin, being left behind as he finally forced himself out, beginning to desperately try and yank his legs free..._

_He'd heard the sound of footsteps ahead of him, and he let out another low, pitiful wail as he heard Undertaker begin to scream out his own cry of protest. At that, he wrenched one leg free, shrieking again as he felt the flesh of his calf tear, and looked up just in time to see a demon disappearing out the main doors of the Library, just as Undertaker's screams had suddenly become choked gurgles. He saw Undertaker fall, and let out a terrified shriek so loud, so desperate, that it should have ripped his throat wide open with its intensity._

_He ripped his other leg free, tearing more tissue, and then ran to him, ran hard and fast and bleeding and in so, so much pain, but so achingly desperate that it didn't matter in the slightest anymore._

_Three days before, just before the siege had begun, a pretty, copper-blond girl by the name of Penny, the one he'd had a crush on, the one Undertaker had teased him about, had cut her palm on her scythe by mistake. It was a small wound, but just deep enough that it needed stitches, and it wouldn't stop leaking blood, no matter what anyone did. Several people in the infirmary tried to stitch it up, but no amount of the available stitches had stopped the bleeding, though they did manage to put a weak seal on the wound. William, encouraged (and playfully teased) by Undertaker into trying his hand at it, had declined at first, though he'd spent an hour or observing from the corner, just thinking, mulling out a solution in that quiet, knowledgeable way of his. He hadn't known then what the scythes could do, none of them had, but he got an idea when he looked at a book on a shelf in the corner of the infirmary; specifically, his book, the one he'd been born from._

_He'd discreetly taken his book, and made a small cut on the corner with his own scythe. He'd then gripped the frayed edge and gently pulled away a small piece of binding, as fine as a hair, and only about three times as thick. He'd then forced his crippling shyness into submission as best he could, and quietly asked Penny if he could try to help, with that little piece of himself (though, he hadn't said the last part, as he didn't want to appear creepy). She had given him a bit of a strange look, wondering what he could possible do that would make any sort of difference (which had very nearly scared him off, because he'd been sure that no one had seen him use the book, as it would have made him look even stranger, and he was afraid that Penny might have caught on to his weird little idea) but, she had been so desperate to fix the problem by that point that she'd told him yes, and watched as he'd carefully sewed the stitch in, and then, to the surprise of everyone, bleeding had stopped immediately. The entire infirmary (which had gathered quite a crowd by then) had broken out into applause, and Penny had laughed, and thanked him, and kissed him on the cheek, just like that. He'd gone absolutely scarlet, right in front of everyone, and several people had laughed, as it was such a William thing to do. He'd then babbled some sort of acknowledgment of her thanks to his lap, and had quickly left the room, still as red as a beet. Undertaker and Claudia had found him later, tucked into a corner of their shared room, his long legs tucked beneath him as he sat on their couch, his nose buried in a book, as usual, face still slightly pink, as his shy nature had completely won out yet again. Undertaker had asked him what he'd done, and where he'd gotten the idea, and he'd merely shrugged and averted his eyes, feigning innocence. His creator had then asked, teasingly, why he'd run off, and had laughed when Claudia slapped his chest playfully as William changed color again._

_"Oh, leave him alone, you old brute!" She'd laughed, and continued laughing, with him, as he'd hugged her close, and sat down next to William, wrapping an arm around each of them..._

_He still had some of those leftover stitches now, jammed into the pocket of his pants, which had been the same he'd been wearing them, as the siege had begun that night, and lasted all the next day, and the one after that, before they had attacked tonight. They were the first thing he thought of when he fell down beside Undertaker, wailing lowly as he saw the ghastly, horrific gash across his throat. He'd looked around, desperately, and by some miracle, found a small, sharp piece of marble nearby, apparently having fallen from one of the many holes in the damaged Library walls. He wrenched the small bundle of binding-stitches from his pocket, praying that it would be enough, and somehow forced the trembling in his hands to halt just long enough for him to tie a thread around the splinter of marble and quickly stitch his creator's throat shut. Drawing everything he could remember from reading Claudia's many medical books, he'd pressed his lips to Undertaker's, breathed air into him, pressed down, hard, against his chest, tilted his head to the side to allow the blood to drain from his airways as he began to cough feebly..._

_He'd used a portal, then, and, knowing it was far too late for Claudia, or any of the other Shinigami he could see, he'd taken Undertaker to the infirmary. Despite knowing the last demon, the very last demon in the Realms, was gone, as he no longer felt that minuscule, demonic presence in his home Realm, he didn't feel safe downstairs anymore. That's where they had come through, that's where he'd been trapped, helpless and vulnerable and cowardly as he'd heard, seen, his kinsman die..._

_More importantly, he knew his book was still upstairs, and he could use it to help Undertaker, who was still bleeding out massively. _

_He didn't know how long he'd sat in the infirmary, unraveling the covers of his own book, and then turning and stitching his creator back together as soon as he had enough thread to close a wound. It seemed like yet another Eternity, but there was but one mantra going through his mind; hurryhurryhurryhurry..._

_It wasn't until his book was a pile of pages that he realized he was several stitches short, and that he wasn't able to close the raw, gaping wound on the upper half of Undertaker's left arm. Being quite deeper than Penny's had been, it was still bleeding badly, and William knew that if he didn't come up with a solution soon, his creator would die of bloodloss. He was already deathly close, just judging from the pale tone of his skin..._

_His gaze had shot up when there was the sound of the infirmary door being pushed open, and heavy, labored breathing from a stooping figure that slowly, torturously drug itself inside. It was doubled over, an arm clutched to its side, and William shot to his feet, the raw, bruised, exposed nerves of his legs and back shrieking with pain, though he ignored them, and pointed his scythe at the intruder and moved protectively in front of Undertaker, fearing another attack._

_He'd dropped the scythe, however, and took in a sharp gasp as Penny, sweet, sunshine-haired Penny, who'd always stood up for him in his earlier, newborn days, when he'd been constantly teased for his eyes, and had absolutely no skill as a Shinigami, slowly raised her head. Her pretty face was splashed with blood about her jaw, and tears flowed heavily down her cheeks as her large eyes focused on him, a tight, pained, and yet, somehow, friendly smile miraculously appearing on her lips._

_"Hey," She gasped as she stumbled inside another few steps, before leaning heavily against the wall, slowly sinking down, down, until she came to rest on the floor, her hand still clasped tightly to her side. William, before he knew what he was doing, moved over, ignoring his own, agonizingly painful wounds as he knelt before her, eyes wide with horror as he stared at the spreading red stain on her own white shirt..._

_"P-Penny..." He gasped, flicking his eyes to hers, and then back to her wound as he took in the ghastly sight. "What-"_

_"No time," She'd panted, though she managed to give him a wane smile as she pulled her hand away from her side. William cringed at the sight of her injury, but studied her bloodied hand as she held it out to him, realizing that it was the same one he'd stitched just days before. "You need more, don't you? For him?" She asked, glancing at Undertaker over his shoulder, and then looking back at him, that same tiny smile on her face. "I thought you would. He's really messed up, huh?" She asked, and had somehow given him a short, hoarse laugh, though it had quickly degenerated into a weak, rough bout of coughing, making the blood pour forth ever faster._

_"Yes, but I..." He'd said, eyes pained as he stared back at her, disbelieving. "I can't. Your hand-"_

_"It isn't healing." She'd said, gently, though firmly enough that William had instantly gone quiet. "It doesn't hurt anymore, but I can tell that it's not healing. It confused me at first, but now it makes sense, huh?" She asked, her voice slowly growing softer as her blood, her Life Force, slipped away, though her smile stayed in place. "Take it, please. I'm not going to make it..."_

_"You will!" William had burst out, more forcefully than he'd meant. His eyes had filled with tears once more, his voice nearly cracking with every word, though he lowered his tone. "You will! I can help you! I-"_

_"It's a scythe wound," She'd said simply, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the wall, her pretty face pale as her voice dipped lower yet. "You just said you're out of stitches, and it's too late for me, I can tell." She whispered now, and the pieces of William's already-broken heart had clenched sharply at her next words, as that dizzingly beautiful smile still stuck, stubbornly, though it was beginning to weaken, as well. "I can hear them, William, I can hear the Gods speaking to me. It's over..."_

_She'd turned her head back again, and met his eyes once more, a soft smile still on her face. She'd touched his cheek with her bloodied hand, meeting his eyes as his tears finally overflowed, silently sweeping away some of the blood from her fingertips._

_"You can still help him, though. I don't hear his voice among theirs. Please, just take mine. Help him, I know you can." She'd said, and, to William's astonishment, had leaned out, and gently pressed their lips together._

_He'd frozen in place for a second, stunned, then slowly leaned back into the kiss, pulling her smaller, wounded frame forward gently as he did so, desperate for the touch and the comfort it offered, the comfort he so desperately needed right then... _

_She'd pulled away from him after a second that seemed far too short, a second that didn't offer nearly enough of what he needed._

_Then she'd tipped her head back against the wall again, closed her eyes, and died, right in William's arms._

_In the end, though he'd struggled to bring her back for over an hour, he'd fulfilled her wish, though Undertaker didn't know it. He didn't know, either, about how William, after stitching up his last wound, had sat next to him the entire night, hugging Penny's limp form and rocking and sobbing until she was nothing but sparks, floating up and away through the ceiling, into the Heavens. Then he'd merely rocked himself, all throughout the next day and night, scared and heartbroken and alone, so horribly, horribly alone, as he watched over Undertaker, fully expecting him to leave him, too. He'd woken up though, eventually, and William had told him about how Claudia was dead, just like everyone else._

_And then they'd both had someone to cling to._

_William, sobbing softly to himself now as he recalled these memories, pulled himself from the wall, punching it in sheer agony, in sheer frustration, in a desperate attempt to get a hold of himself. He staggered into his room, and didn't even bother shutting the door, and instead sat on the edge of his desk, staring blindly at the floor, his mind reeling, the last of his tears slipping down his cheeks. Finally, decisively, he reached up and slowly pulled off his glasses, blinking and squinting his eyes as anything more than about four feet away immediately became blurry and unfocused._

_Slowly, sniffling his tears away, still in a daze, he crushed his glasses in his right hand, his free hand moving up and slipping the key off of his neck once more. He wordlessly put his feet back on the floor and walked around the edge of the desk, like he was on autopilot. Kneeling down, he slid the key back in the lock and turned, then pulled the drawer open._

_Inside was a book with a deep, rich red cover, a folder with his own personal papers, and a pair of glasses that had been given to him by Undertaker for his first birthday, just a few weeks ago. They hadn't been touched, as he had found them too uptight and classy for his liking. Undertaker hadn't minded, though, and had just told him to keep them as a spare, and William had appreciated him all the more for his understanding._

_However, that was about to change._

_He reached in and pulled out the glasses, then wordlessly slid them on, pushing them up his nose with two fingers and blinking to help his eyes readjust to the change.. Immediately, everything became very sharp, crystal clear..._

_"Clearer than before." He whispered aloud, his voice calmer now, though still wavering as he slid the drawer closed and locked it, before stowing the key in his pocket, and drying his cheeks._

_"It all makes sense now."_

_And it did, because he knew that despite the tragedy, the horror, the pain of letting everything go..._

_He had found his calling._

_Undertaker was right; he was more capable than he thought._

_Suddenly, years whipped through his memory at lightspeed, each memory hovering for only a half-second, but so clear, so vivid, for that brief period of time that he saw them, William knew what they all meant, even if the affect was still dizzying. He saw his office build and grow, and Undertaker adjust to his new life. He hadn't seen the man shed a single tear after that day, and he himself had refused to cry ever since, having hardened his heart to stone after that day. There was too much work to do, too much sorting and putting things back into perspective and keeping order._

_He wanted to be in control of everything, of every single aspect of his life now. He never wanted to feel so helpless, so vulnerable and broken and powerless ever again. Not like when he was trapped, not like when he'd lost his first friend, his first love, and couldn't do anything to help her in the slightest. _

_Besides, if he didn't keep control, he'd break down again._

_He didn't have the time for bawling like a small child._

_But, deep down, that's exactly what he felt like doing. He knew, he knew, that while Undertaker's laughter had returned over the years, his grin had resurfaced and shone anew... He knew that if he could see those brilliant emerald eyes, they wouldn't be smiling like the rest of him, because his happiness had died along with his kin, and his first love. William suffered a fate that was just as similar, just as bad, however, if not even worse; while he suffered from the same loneliness, the same ache to regain what had been lost, just as his creator did, he seemed to have forgotten how to laugh._

_Hell, he couldn't even remember how to smile._

_Finally, one of the outside murmurs took shape, making the transition from sound into voice, from voice into words..._

"Open your eyes..." It whispered just above him, so faint and far away that he almost missed it. Too startled to react, his consciousness wavered in a sickening, eerie sort of way, that left him teetering between coma and wakefulness.

_He told always himself he was content, no, happy with his work, just like Undertaker. He ignored the loneliness that swept over him like a crashing wave whenever he completed the last stack of papers in the dead of night and was left staring at the wall, wondering how his life had come to this. He ignored the fact that he knew his friend, his creator, was just as miserable as he, trapped there in that dusty old morgue with no one but the cold shoulders of the dead to talk to._

_"He's always laughing. How can he be sad?" William would ask himself, and, somehow, the lie would settle his mind. Somehow, his knowledge that they were both too proud to seek help from the other anymore would be pushed aside, and he'd accept the untruth. He'd chase away his own pain by use of pen and paper, and then he'd retire and ignore the sad, lonely dreams, the nightmares, that plagued him nightly, and reminded him constantly of just how very alone he was._

_He'd wrote them off as just that; stupid, meaningless dreams._

"Open your eyes."

_They meant nothing._

"Open your eyes."

Somewhere, distantly, his eyes twitched, and a splash of color reeled his two-halves, his mind and his body, closer together, and his euphoria diminished and the voice became louder, clearer...

_Just dreams._

"Please..."

_Just like this. This entire thing is a dream..._

"Wake up."

_Except, it was all true._

"Just open your eyes."

_This all happened! It was all true, all of it! I'm remembering what happened, not imagining events!_

_Every night spent alone, every day ticked off the calender, despite the fact that his life was endless, despite the fact that it had no meaning, as he had no need for a Bucket List or an ultimate goal or even that damned calender itself... Just what was he doing? What was he doing with his eternity? Without a set lifespan, and with the absence of any real sense of happiness, his mind and his heart were rotting, rotting with misery, as day upon meaningless day, night upon lonesome night, piled and built up on top of each other, because it seemed like all his chances for happiness had died in his arms, and floated away, never to return..._

_Just what was he doing with his eternity?_

"Wasting..." His far-away, other half muttered, and once again, his two pieces, his delirious, comatose mind, and his fever-ridden, broken body, were drawn closer back together. He was almost home...

_Wasting his eternity, just as a mortal wastes its life trying to please everyone but itself and then lies, lies and tells all that its happy, overjoyed to bow to their whims. Just as a mortal runs around and around a set wheel like a mouse in a cage, never getting anywhere, but still running, clawing away, wasting energy on a goal that has no meaning. A goal that will be utterly worthless once that mortal is nothing but a book on a shelf..._

_Or, a cold-shouldered, faraway God._

And then, as his eyes flickered again, and his two-halves finally came together in a painful, glorious awakening, William finally realized that this was exactly what he was doing. He was, had been, clawing away at a set wheel, a neverending circle, burning his happiness like calories in an attempt to please everyone around him as he completely ignored what he needed, what he had experienced in that brief little second, so long ago. He realized that his selflessness had gone beyond the point of goodwill, and straight into self-deprivation, and inside, he was suffering. He was suffering and had become bitter and angry and cold because of his love for others.

He was wasting his eternity, because he denied himself love and gave his happiness away because of love.

And he was wasting and suffering tenfold, because he had once, for a heartbeat, tasted that same Love, and now it danced just out of his reach, taunting him, mocking him...

Oh, the _irony. _The bitter, stinging _irony._

"Open your eyes." That sweet, quiet voice said once more, like an angel beckoning him home. It may very well have been an angel; he could tell it came from just above him, as warm, sweet-smelling breath brushed over his heated face from a high angle, and it soothed him in a way the cold moisture on his face could not..

"Please just open your eyes, William..."

And, finally, he obeyed.


	38. Call Him William

As the blurry world above slowly came back into focus, William's disoriented-but now clear-eyes met two identical, green-on-green eyes above him, and he blinked owlishly, trying to get his groggy mind to comprehend what he was seeing.

Ronald Knox stared back down at him, a smile slowly spreading across his face and excitement lighting in his eyes as he realized that William had rejoined them.

It had been three days since the sermon, and Ronald's injuries had healed considerably in the short time. Though he still had a bit of a black eye, he was able to keep it fully open now without any apparent pain, and his ghastly bruising from a few days before had been reduced to a few light purple splotches on his cheek, which looked like they'd be gone within the next day or two. To say the least, he was looking _much _better, and he certainly looked like he _felt _much better, judging from the way he was studying William with what borderlined adoration.

"You're awake..." He breathed softly, his smile earnestly excited, and yet soft with sympathy at William's condition, his eyes still locked with his superior's. "Gods, I was so worried..."

"He's awake?" A familiar, feminine figure said as it moved to stand behind Ronald, leaning over the younger Shinigami's shoulder and grinning his signature shark-like smile. "Ooooh! He is! Helloooo~ there, Willy dear!"

"About time." A third voice chuckled, and William pulled his eyes away from Grell, breaking the glare the redhead had received for daring to utter the phrase "Willy-dear". He turned his head slowly to see a familiar, scruffy-haired Shinigami directly to his left, who had his emerald eyes (now free of bandages, which revealed that his eye had escaped injury, leaving his vision unharmed) alight, with a matching grin on his face. "I was starting to wonder if he'd be out all century."

William blinked, slowly trying to piece his scattered thoughts together, a headache rapidly beginning to form. He squinted at them all, trying to get a clearer view, but, for some reason, the world stayed blurry, no matter how hard he tried to focus. Ronald's gentle chuckling filled the air from the foot of his bed, and he glanced down in his direction, a tad puzzled.

"Here, would these help?" He asked pleasantly, and William flinched a bit in surprise as his glasses were carefully slid back onto his face. His vision suddenly became razor-sharp again, and he clearly saw Ronald's hands pulling back, with Ronald smiling warmly at him as the world finally came into focus.

He blinked several times, his mind seeming to clear with his vision, and he just then noticed a foreign weight on his brow. With this realization, he was now aware of the cold, damp mass on his forehead, and he reached up a hand instinctively, grabbing the small, wet towel and pulling it off, wincing a bit as his chest gave a small, painful twinge. Undertaker quirked an eyebrow and took it from his hand without a word, the corner of his mouth screwing up into a light smirk. He passed it to Grell, who set it down in a place that William couldn't see, as Ronald's legs draped over the edge of the bed and blocked his view. Still, having a cloth like _that _on his forehead and waking up hot, dazed, and surrounded by your friends could mean only one thing.

He groaned lightly, sounding exasperated, and shut his eyes with irritation. The trio all exchanged a glance, and William sighed slowly, deeply, his voice tinged with both annoyance and his still-lingering fever... and, perhaps, a slight rasp of fear, left over from his demons coming to play in the euphoria of his fevered dreams.

"Just what exactly happened, and how long was I out?" He asked, so surprised by the grate to his voice that he opened his eyes once more with a startled blink. It was just then that he realized how incredibly thirsty he was, and he licked his dry lips and swallowed, his throat horribly dry and scratchy, like wool.

Noticing the small signs of William's discomfort, Ronald reached over to a high stool that was sitting next to him, and picked up a small water pitcher there, and William finally knew where the towel had gone. Ronald nodded to Grell, who walked away with surprising ease, his injuries appearing to have healed immensely since the last time William saw him, just as Ronald's had. He opened a cupboard and rummaged around for a second, and then tossed a small plastic cup to Ronald, who caught it with ease, and promptly poured the water into it.

William then felt strong, capable hands under either of his arms, and he shot Undertaker a surprised, slightly indignant look as his elder helped him sit up against the pillows, his chest and shoulder pulling uncomfortably, though his creator was obviously being as gentle as he could. Undertaker merely smirked back at him, what he had left of his bangs jittering gently as he snickered. William rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed to suddenly be so needy. Truth be told, his limbs felt like jelly, and he really doubted he would have been able to sit up on his own, but that certainly didn't mean he _liked_ being babied; to be honest, he abhorred it, though he wasn't going to be so disrespectful as to say so.

He readjusted himself slightly, miffed, then winced and gripped at his chest, his teeth gritting as a he managed to aggravate a particularly sore area he hadn't noticed before, which began to throb hotly, making him sit straight with sudden pain.

"Careful, careful..." Undertaker said, shaking his head gently and placing a restraining hand on his shoulder, though he was quite careful with that, as well, as it was still swathed in bandages. Ronald glanced up, frowning, and Grell walked back over to them, only the slightest limp in his step. William shot Undertaker another scowl, about to demand why he was so hypocritically up and running around when his injuries couldn't possibly be healed, when he noticed that Undertaker was actually seated in a wheelchair.

Undertaker pulled his hand away and reclined comfortably back, not seeming to mind the contraption in the slightest. William, vividly remembering the injury to Undertaker's back and how he may have severed valuable nerves, felt fear spike in his throat, constricting it, and the cup Ronald offered him went ignored as his face bleached white and he stared at his creator as though he may drop dead at any second.

"Oh Gods, _please _tell me you're not in that because-"

"Nope." Undertaker said cheerily, moving one leg as indication that he wasn't paralyzed in the slightest. "My side is still just a little bit too tender for me to stand, that's all. The stitches are taking nicely, though, despite the initial mishap."

Relief flooded through William, and it was evident from the look on his face and the way his cheeks suddenly regained their color (though, he was still a tad paler than he should have been). Ronald nudged the cup against his hand gently to get his attention once more, and William blinked, then took the cup with a small, skeptical look at the water inside.

"It's fresh, and still cold." Ronald said with a small, carefree laugh, completely unoffended. "Grell just went and got it a few minutes ago."

"That makes me even more hesitant to drink it." William said dryly, but he placed his lips to the cup anyway, showing that he didn't mean it. Grell, for once, didn't have his pride injured in the least by this minor jab, as he was too busy beaming at William to care as William rapidly drained the cup, the glorious, cool liquid soothing his throat immediately,

"Now, to answer your question," Undertaker said, scooting forward a bit and then leaning forward against the bed, fluffing William's pillow absently as he spoke in a mild, teasing tone. "A certain Head Shinigami decided that bone-deep wounds weren't important enough to worry about, then got a naaa~sty fever because of it and was out for... what, four or five days now?" Undertaker asked, glancing over at Grell, who nodded solemnly and frowned sympathetically at William. "He was a _very _silly Head Shinigami indeed." Undertaker continued poking William's nose and smirking as Grell bit his lip to stifle a giggle.

William felt his cheeks tinge red, and he shot Undertaker a bit of a scowl, earning an innocent grin in return.

"Maybe that certain Head Shinigami did so because a certain _ex-_Shinigami was a bigger concern at the time." William retorted, passing the cup back to Ronald. Ronald refilled it and pressed it back into his hand encouragingly, and William took the cup from him, giving him a grateful look. He took a large sip, his throat still slightly dry, but not _nearly _as bad as it had been to begin with.

"Ah, William, you really _have _shaken off that delirium. Good to see." Undertaker said with a fond chuckle. "You remember that much, hm? Pleasantly surprising. Come to think of it, what exactly _is _the last thing you remember?"

William closed his eyes and took a slow breath, doing his best to think back and try to remember what happened nearly a week ago. Broken, hazy bits of his comatose dreams were all he could dredge up for several seconds, and he pushed them aside, earnestly wishing not to share them, or even remember them, really, as they made his heart clench, even right now, while surrounded by friends and perfectly safe. He did his best to concentrate on those that he knew weren't old memories-as that's what the dreams had mostly consisted of-or those that seemed accurate, or those that just involved the other three Shinigami at all.

"I _think," _He said after a long, silent moment of heavy contemplation. "That Grell was somehow involved, and there was some sort of argument. You, were... up, somehow? Possibly just awake? Maybe?" He glanced over at Undertaker, his brow pinched with thought, showing that he clearly didn't think that that detail could have been correct. "And then Ronald and I were talking about..."

He trailed off, suddenly bleaching white again, and then sat up so suddenly that he-and everyone else, for that matter-let out a small cry. Ronald lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders, pressing him back against the pillow firmly and whining with distress when William cringed again, as Ronald had mistakenly aggravated his injuries. Grell squealed in fright and jumped from foot-to-foot as though he were standing on hot stones, and Undertaker looked over his shoulder, searching anxiously for the nearest nurse, and being rather miffed to see that none were present.

"The Book!" William gasped, his hand at his chest and a grimace of pain on his face, though he seemed to be otherwise ignoring his condition. "Where is the-?"

"Here." Undertaker said calmly, reaching over into the pocket of Grell's coat (as, like William, he was barechested, save for his own, lighter bandages, and didn't have any pockets of his own that were large enough; nurse's orders) and pulling out a small red book. Grell let out a tiny squeak of surprise, and stared at the book as though it were about to leap forward and bite him.

Undertaker chuckled softly at Grell's reaction, and held out the book to William, who snatched it from him and immediately began flipping rapidly through the pages. His look of intense worry faded into that of massive relief as soon as he saw the pink-and-black Bookmark wedged firmly between the last two pages, the words there, which had stopped midsentence, stoic and unmoving, showing that time in the Mortal Realm had been halted. Undertaker calmly raised an eyebrow as William snapped the book closed and handed it back to him with a hand that trembled with relief (and quite a bit of fatigue, though he never would have admitted it), a smirk hovering on the silver-haired Shinigami's face as he took it back.

"Did you honestly think I'd forget? I put it in there before the battle even started. You were so preoccupied with everything else that you didn't even notice, did you?" He chuckled pleasantly, stroking one long nail down the spine of the book. "That's a first; you're quite protective of this thing. Though, I _really_ can't blame you..."

"Oh, shut up." William said grumpily, though he was really too relieved to be angry. "I'm just glad you had the sense to remember. You're not quite as loony as I thought."

"Excuse me, but what the fuck is going on?" Grell chimed in lightly, using a crossing of his arms and a sassy cocking of his hips to accentuate his point. "Why are you hiding stuff in my jacket, huh? There had better _not _be any organs in there, or whatever it is you morticians would smuggle."

"Language, Sutcliff." William said snippily, readjusting his glasses with two fingers and giving Grell a sharp look. Ronald smiled to himself; William was quickly returning to his old self, and it meant he was beginning to recover quickly, even if he still had a mild temperature.

_"But-!"_

"It was in there because I hide things in obvious places, because no one ever thinks to look there. It works every time." Undertaker said with a snicker, and Grell scowled lightly at him. "It's been in there for _daaaa~ys, _m'lady. Reverse Psychology is fascinating, don't you think? Besides, I don't think any sane person would attempt to pickpocket you; I don't foresee a happy ending for them."

"But what is it?" Ronald asked politely, tilting his head curiously as he examined the book in Undertaker's hand. It looked like any other book in the Library, save for the red cover, so what could possibly be so special about it?

_"That_ is the most important book in the entire Library." William said, settling back against his pillows and swilling the water about in the cup before taking another sip. "It's basically every book in the Library all rolled into one. It keeps track of and affects all mortals, _everywhere,_ at the same time, writing down every single event that's taking place, every second of the day, which means it moves _very _quickly. If you want to find things on a specific mortal, I'd _really _recommend just looking for the book on that mortal; it's not like you'd be allowed to touch it, anyway, and that little thing right there is such a _pain _to monitor." William said, pointing a grudging finger at the book as though it had done something wrong. "How am I supposed to keep the world from plunging into chaos if I can't even read it half the time? If there's a sudden disaster, you can bet that I'll only catch a glimpse of it. Such is the story of my life."

"But, it's so _small!" _Grell said, leaning down and gingerly poking the cover of the book, as though it was still planning a vicious assault on him. "How in the Realms can it have every book ever recorded inside?"

"Don't touch it!" William growled softly, giving Grell another jagged look. "It's only for the eyes of the highest authority, and-"

"Isn't this neat?" Undertaker said with a manic giggle, holding the book horizontally by its covers and letting the pages fall in an off-white cascade, nearly knocking the Bookmark back out in the process. "The pages that have already been written go on forever, see? Whenever the book writes another page, it turns itself and a new page is spontaneously there, every single time. The bad thing is is that you have to place the Bookmark in the exact place that it's writing itself to stop things, though, and since it writes so fast, you have to be really quick. It took me almost ten minutes to do it."

William was staring at Undertaker as though he wanted to light him on fire. Ronald was biting his lip very hard in an attempt to hold back a massive gail of laughter, and his shoulders shook as Grell continued to stare at the tiny book, mesmerized, and William continued to glare pins and needles at the both of them.

Slowly, William placed a hand over his face, muttering something that sounded less than pleasant under his breath. Ronald lost it then, and he doubled over, giggling helplessly with a hand clapped tightly to his mouth. It was no use, however, and his giggling devolved into a full-on gale of laughter as William tossed a spare pillow at him.

"People like you three are the reason people like me need pills." William said, drawing in a deep, exasperated breath and letting it out slowly, resisting the urge to toss a second feathery weapon. "Good lord... If it took you so long to put the Bookmark in, why are you nearly knocking it back out again? I withdraw my previous statement; you are a complete and utter loon."

Undertaker shut the book and carefully dropped it back into Grell's pocket, snickering madly at William's chiding. Grell grinned down at him and kissed his cheek, earning a gentle, playful growl from Undertaker in return as the older Shinigami nipped his ear affectionately.

"Just don't take out that Bookmark, or Time in the Mortal Realm will move forward, and all Hell will break loose. We don't have nearly enough demons, and they need a new Wire and everything." Undertaker said to Grell, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "We just kept the world from ending, let's keep it that way, hm?"

Grell nodded obediently, leaning against the back of the wheelchair and draping his arms lovingly around Undertaker's neck. Undertaker tilted his head back languidly, and Grell, knowing what he was seeking, met him with a gentle, loving kiss.

William shook his head gently, his hard look melting into something softer; something that would have been fond, had he smiled just then. He looked away from the two of them, focusing instead on Ronald, who'd recovered himself and was now sitting in silence at the foot on William's bed. Ronald was looking away from the two, a unnamed emotion flashing through his eyes, and William gazed at him quietly for several seconds, having to try and guess what one of his officers was thinking for the first time in a long, long time. He didn't like that look; it reminded him of something far too familiar, too personal.

Too painful.

William understood, completely, in that moment; he felt it nightly, afterall.

Ronald, feeling William's eyes on him after a few moments, glanced up and met his gaze, blinking in mild surprise as William held the look. He then smiled as his superior, the brief, previous look in his eyes fading away instantly, and William watched him as he stood up, seemingly at ease once more.

"I'll be right back, sir." He said politely, bowing slightly, and then heading for the door and looking back at William with a warm smile. "I'm sure you're hungry, so I'll get you something to eat."

He opened the door, and William stared at him for a second, hesitating and running his decision through his mind quickly. He then, finally, spoke up, just as Ronald was about to close the door behind him.

"Ronald?"

Ronald pulled back a bit, looking at William from around the door with bright, inquisitive eyes; eyes that William realized with a pang that he'd missed, despite himself. He felt a small stirring of emotion in his chest as he realized that those eyes, more than anything else right now, were making him feel better.

Somehow, though, they were also making him feel worse, as they reminded him of someone he'd been trying to forget.

He pushed this sudden, uncomfortably weak thought away, and cleared his throat gently, despite how sore it was shaping up to be. He took a small sip of water to help, then spoke calmly, his voice somehow softer, lacking a bit of the usual commanding edge, but still just hard enough so that Ronald would know who was speaking, and that he had to obey.

"Call me William."

Ronald blinked, staring at William with obvious bewilderment. Then, once he was finally able to comprehend what had been asked of him, his face lit up with such a pleased, bright smile that William was unable to stop himself from admiring it with a little something more than friendly curiosity. That emotion, that burning, bittersweet emotion, welled inside his chest again, and William had to fight twice as hard to keep it down this time, terrified that it might show on his face somehow. No, that wouldn't be good, not at _all..._

"I can do that." Ronald said softly, though the happiness in his voice was so evident that even a deaf man would have heard it. "I can definitely do that."

William blinked, then looked away, nodding silently and granting Ronald permission to leave. Ronald, still beaming, turned and walked out, the door screeching closed behind him. William won over his sudden emotion then, successfully, as neither Undertaker nor Grell seemed to notice a change at all.

"I've really got to oil the hinges on that stupid thing..." William muttered, shooting the door a bit of a dirty look and rubbing his temple, wincing as his headache began to slowly drawl up in intensity. "Some days, I swear it sounds like you, Grell."

Undertaker chuckled, and Grell crossed his arms and pouted, though he knew the teasing meant that William was quickly getting back on his feet. Undertaker tapped William to get his attention, his long black nail gently brushing the flesh of his arm and making William jump. William looked over at him immediately, one dark eyebrow quirking as he studied his creator a tad indignantly.

"Now, do you want to know what happened, or shall we all sit here and twiddle our thumbs while we wait on him?" Undertaker said with a grin, and for a brief second, William thought he saw something very familiar-and very much missed-in those eyes.

"Let's hear it." William said, sitting back and settling his hands together on his abdomen, eager to get his mind back in the present, and away from all else, just as it should be.

"In that case, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

William's eyebrow quirked a little further, and he stared at Undertaker expectantly, rather dreading what may qualify as "bad news" in the present situation.

"Bad news it is, then."

xxx

More fanart!

This one is by dark-yokokitsune at dA and is entitled "Would you like a Kiss?"

.com/#/d34s494

It's rather obvious which scene this depicts, and let me just say, it's so amazingly gory, even if it isn't in color. XD That's impressive.

This one is another by wulfegurl006 at dA and it's called "Please wake up". Once again, the scene is obvious. XD

.com/art/Please-wake-up-189510962

Thanks, guys, and keep them coming!


	39. Chicken Soup for the Soul

"The bad news is that before you passed out on us, you ended up smacking Grell." Undertaker said calmly, his hand reaching up and brushing Grell's cheek, which had healed within a day or so. Despite the fact that Undertaker was perfectly calm and snuggling with his lover once again, however, there was an authoritative edge to his voice that said he meant business.

William noticed the tone and quirked an eyebrow, looking over at Grell, who frowned a little and looked back at him, saying nothing for or against him.

"And? I do that all the time." He said evenly, honestly not seeing a big issue, because Undertaker was already well aware of it. "Really, now, is that all? Because I'm hardly going to stop over another bout of protective jealousy. He definitely needs it from time to time."

It was true, too; a creation like Grell only seemed to get the message when you cuffed him upside the head while delivering it. Grell had long since grown used to it, and even seemed to enjoy it these days, as he'd purposely get on William's nerves and then ask to be spanked, just to further goad his boss on.

Needless to say, he never got his wish, but he'd usually get hit just a _little _bit harder.

Undertaker leaned back in the wheelchair, shrugging slightly and playing with a lock of Grell's hair, like he seemed to be doing so often these days. Grell nipped at his fingers playfully, careful not to leave marks, and Undertaker smirked up at him before looking back down to William, the smile fading just slightly.

"I know that, and it actually doesn't really bother me. I know that he asks for it sometimes." He said calmly, being completely earnest.

"You have no idea," William said, repressing a small shudder and sending a pointed look in Grell's direction.

_"Heeeeeeeeey!" _Grell whined, nipping Undertaker's fingers with a little more force, but still being very careful not to hurt him. "I can hear you guys! It's not nice to talk about a lady like that, especially when she's right in front of you!"

"Then you know what we're saying for yourself, and that we're not exaggerating in the slightest." Undertaker said, slightly amused as he smirked up at Grell. "Therefore, you know we're not spreading rumors."

Grell crossed his arms and pouted at the two of them, displeased, but they both knew he'd forget in roughly three minutes, and neither seemed to mind him.

"But what I'm getting at, William," Undertaker continued, fixing his young friend with a much more serious look. "Is that you hit him hard enough to nearly knock him to the floor. His cheek was bruised up for two days, and since he hit his head in the process, I was very worried about him having a concussion."

William blinked, taken aback by this revelation. A massive, almost unbearable weight of guilt suddenly washed over him, and he flicked his stunned eyes to Grell. He stared at him for several long seconds, and Grell looked down, shuffling his feet slightly, as though he were somehow in the wrong.

"I'm not mad, Will." He said quietly, leaning his chin against Undertaker's head and giving William an earnest look, his eyes wide and rather sad. "You were sick... _Really _sick. I've never seen anyone that ill before..."

"That's no excuse." William said gravely, his brow furrowed and his eyes tight with distress. "My deepest apologies Grell, I'd never-"

"I know, that's why I'm not mad." Grell said simply, wrapping his arms around Undertaker's neck from behind. "I was too scared to be mad. You don't have to be sorry."

Undertaker looked back at him and smiled, obviously pleased with his rather unusual, but pleasant bout of forgiveness. Grell kissed his nose, and Undertaker chuckled softly, perfectly at ease once more.

"Grell, come here." William said softly, readjusting himself so that he was sitting up a little straighter and motioning for Grell with his hand. Grell blinked, locking eyes with Undertaker questioningly, who simply nodded and gave his cheek a gentle, affectionate swat.

"Well, don't just stand there," He said, grinning up at the redhead cheerily. "He's your boss and he gave you an order. As a former person of authority, I certainly can't let you run around disobeying orders."

Grell stuck his tongue out at Undertaker and let go of him, moving instead to William's side and sitting on the edge of his bed. William, his brow still furrowed with what appeared to be an emotion born of guilt and worry, grabbed a lock of Grell's hair and tugged him closer, impatiently, causing a small squeal to emit from Grell.

"Owwww! That _huuuurt!"_ Grell whined childishly, and William couldn't help but flinch when those massive, intimidating teeth clicked together an inch away from his nose, despite the fact that Grell meant no harm. Images of the battle flooded back into his mind, and the memory of it made bile rise in his throat. Oh, Gods, why did he have to think of that _now?_ He was suddenly rather glad he had an empty stomach, as the very memory of it made him want to vomit, and he bit his lip hard to hold back anything that might somehow defy him.

Note to self; never encourage Grell's homicidal rampages.

Quite a hard lesson learned.

Regardless, he pushed both the mental images and the sudden fear aside, and took Grell's face between his hands, studying him carefully and being sure not to meet his eyes, least he get the wrong idea. Grell blushed and giggled, despite his efforts to keep it as passing and business-like as possible, as the man was dead-set on turning anything and everything into a sexual advance. William glanced over at Undertaker, who was watching him closely, his emerald eyes cool and calculating. Granted, he was much calmer with William's sudden move than he had been with Ronald's friendly advances, as the two had centuries of trust between them, but he was still obviously very protective of his feisty little lover, and obviously quite prone to jealousy.

"Ooooh, Will, you'd better hope that-"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." William said bluntly, giving Grell an unimpressed, exasperated look. "Where did I hit you?"

"Right cheek." Grell said, frowning now, and William rolled his eyes at how quickly he'd gotten serious again. Well, at least he'd taken the hint for once.

"You never pass up an opportunity to flirt, do you?" William said dryly, poking and prodding at Grell's cheek now, feeling for any remaining bumps or bruises. Grell watched him with half-lidded eyes, looking very unimpressed himself now, as he didn't appreciate having to take the risk of his makeup getting smeared because of a persnickety, poky boss.

"I hardly ever mean it." Grell whined with a pout of his lips as William continued to feel around for anything abnormal... besides what he thought was a particularly empty head, but that was normal for _Grell,_ afterall. "Just with him." Grell said, motioning at Undertaker, whose pleased, crescent-moon grin could now be seen over Grell's shoulder, as he was quite happy with hearing Grell say this aloud. "The rest is just for fun, and I can't resist! It's the thrill of the chase, Will, it's so addictive!"

"I'd suggest stopping there if you want me to keep my comments to myself, as I'm not in the best mood." William said sourly, not really that impressed with Grell's promiscuous nature, but, secretly, he was pleased to see him acting this way, if only at the current moment; it meant that he was fine, and that William was, indeed, forgiven.

"Now, if I hit you nearly a week ago, as you lot are saying, any injury it may have caused should be healed, and I don't feel anything out of the ordinary." He said, moving his hand up and gently pressing around Grell's head, pleased to find it free of injury as well. "Are your teeth straight?"

"Jeez, you didn't hit me _that _hard," Grell said, rolling his eyes and sighing slowly, as though he were trying to explain to a small child that two and two is not five. "It takes a lot more to damage these gorgeous pearly-whites. They're fine, Will. _I'm _fine."

"Watch your tone." William said, gently boxing Grell's ears with open hands, being careful not to hit him too roughly for both their sakes, as Undertaker was still watching William like a protective mother hen. "I'm still your boss. Need I remind you for the twelve-hundredth time by making you write a detailed report on just what exactly that means?"

"No!" Grell squeaked, quickly pulling back and rubbing at his ears. "You're so meeaaan, Will! Threatening paperwork even while stuck in bed! So voracious! So feisty! So-"

"Calm down, Sutcliff. I suddenly fear for my virtue, and I may just be tempted to actually follow through with that paperwork."

Undertaker was snickering madly behind them, extremely amused by what was happening; and it usually happened on a day-to-day basis, and at least twice, at that. Grell shot him a look, crossing his arms and giving him a playful glare, sticking his tongue out yet again.

"Why are you taking _his _side?"

"Shut up and show me your leg, Sutcliff." William said, sighing with irritation and glaring slightly at the redhead. "If you're up and walking around, it had _better _be because one of the nurses said you could."

"She did when she took out my stitches! She said my back was fine, too!" Grell said, raising his leg off the ground and placing it on the bed promptly, his lips still fixed in a pout. He rolled up his pant-leg, pointing at the four fresh scars there, which would soon fade away into nothing as his Shinigami body erased all evidence of the injury. "She said it would be stiff for a day or two, but that I was pretty much fully healed!"

William ran expert fingers over the scars, and was pleased to see that Grell seemed to be telling the truth for once; the lean, firm muscle was growing back nicely, it seemed, as his calf was becoming as full and flawless as it had been before. If he was walking, it meant no nerve damage, and the lack of large bruises or blood spewing from his wounds meant that the arteries were in the clear. For once, William was satisfied with what Grell had to show him.

_"Eeee~!" _Grell giggled, wiggling as William poked at the scars. "That tickles!"

"Moron..." William said, rolling his eyes in his own affectionate sort of way and releasing Grell's leg once he was sure that Grell was fine."But, at least you seem to be refraining from lying through those infamous teeth of yours for a change. I'm proud of you."

Undertaker smiled at the two of them as Grell blushed with pleasure and pulled the leg of his pants back down, before hopping off of William's bed and then perching himself daintily in Undertaker's lap. Undertaker wrapped an arm around him, smirking at William and laying his chin on the top of Grell's head.

"It's funny how you're the one who's bedridden, and yet you're still poking at _us _to make sure we kick when you do." Undertaker snickered, his hand sliding up and stroking Grell's cheek lovingly. "You're so wonderfully complicated, William."

"Oh, knock it off, you old bruiser." William said, tossing his last spare pillow at Undertaker, the corner of his mouth twitching as he held back a smile. Undertaker laughed as it swooped lower than expected and promptly smacked Grell in the face, causing a stray feather to blow high into the air. "Get over here and let me check your stitches."

Undertaker laughed merrily, and Grell pulled the pillow off of his face with an indignant huff and got up, walking around the wheelchair and pushing it a few inches closer, until it was touching the side of the bed and well within William's reach. William, his careful, skeptical eyes running across the new stitches of Undertaker's face, let out a small sigh, seeming both pleased and relieved that Undertaker was doing well, and that his eye had escaped damage once again.

"They do seem to be taking." He confirmed, reaching over and running an approving hand over the thin layer of bandages at his side, gently feeling along the stitches and making sure none were pulling loose or off-center. The older Shinigami held back a flinch, despite how careful William was being, and William pulled back quickly. Though he was doing well, he was naturally still very sore, and even the slightest touches were painful.

"Sorry." William said, folding his hands in his lap and laying back against the pillows, finally letting himself relax now that he was sure the others were well. "But, they should be fine in another few days. I hope you haven't had any trouble breathing?"

"No." Undertaker said easily, scooting the chair back a bit to allow Grell to sit in his lap again. Grell hugged his neck and pulled his legs up, shamelessly snuggling against him. Undertaker smirked and laid his chin on Grell's head again, hugging him closer. "But I shudder to think of what may have happened if I had had a cough at the time."

"Oh, _Gods," _William groaned, closing his eyes. _"Please _don't put that image in my mind. You were nearly DOA as it was, Gods forbid you literally cough up a lung on top of it."

Unnoticed by William, Grell shuddered in Undertaker's lap, and immediately drew a little closer and nuzzled against his chest, closing his eyes tightly. Undertaker gave him an understanding look, his hand reaching up to stroke Grell's crimson locks comfortingly; poor Grell still wasn't quite over the entire incident.

"Is that all in the way of bad news?" William asked, cracking an eye open at them lazily, shifting a bit and wincing when his injured leg pulled painfully, his knee cracking a little bit.

"Well, you missed the funeral. It was quite something." Undertaker said, his free hand slipping down and out of William's sight to teasingly stroke Grell's inner hip, causing the redhead to tense the slightest amount. "Mr. Knox has quite the talent for planning events like that, it seems."

William quirked an eyebrow, mildly surprised and suddenly rather intrigued.

"Ronald planned it?" He asked, opening both eyes now and fixing them on Undertaker expectantly, wanting details. Undertaker shrugged, scratching gently at Grell's hip, making Grell blush slightly against his chest and resist the urge to squirm.

"Oh, yeah. He took charge the entire time. It's not like I could, and Grell might as well have sewn himself to my arm." Undertaker said, a small smile tugging at his lips as Grell scowled lightly up at him. "He did a good job, too, as I was rather shocked that no riots broke out and the Library didn't burn to the ground. Kid's got potential."

"That's a huge accomplishment, indeed." William said dryly, though inwardly, he was impressed and very much surprised himself. Ronald Knox was not the type of person he would have expected to step up to the job, much less succeed; he was a bit of a suck-up in the office, as he was the very definition of "Bosses' Pet". Outside of work, however, he was a notorious flirt, a party boy, a ladykiller, and a gambler. In essence, he was a "Wild Child" and William often shook his head in disdain at the very thought of it. Needless to say, William's respect for him went up a notch then, when he realized there was more to this kid than he thought, and then he started to wonder how much he actually _knew _about Ronald, outside of his timecard and his work ethic. Afterall, it wasn't like he ever attended the late-night parties, as he normally paid a few volunteers a little extra if they agreed to keep on eye on things for him; he was simply going off of hear-say.

Perhaps there was a bit more to him than the fact that he often goofed off and then used his age as an excuse. Perhaps Sutcliff's influence hadn't managed to ruin him just yet.

"Aw, you don't have to go and brag on me." A cheery, slightly embarrassed voice said from the front of the room, and everyone looked up to see Ronald in question.

Speak of the Devil, and he shall arrive...

Though, the boyish round glasses Ronald had put back on between his departure and his arrival begged to differ; "Devil" seemed to be the complete opposite appearance of him. His glasses, combined with the fresh clothes that consisted of a humble white shirt and jeans, plus the natural youth of his appearance made him look like he couldn't hurt a fly if he tried.

In his hands, Ronald was carrying a bowl of soup, and he smiled at them all, clearly a bit taken aback by the sudden amount of praise. Afterall, he wasn't used to praise in the least, and was instead usually bending over backwards just to try and be recognized.

William raised an eyebrow, pleased that Ronald had donned his spectacles without being told to do so, and he watched as Ronald walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, the bowl balanced carefully in his hands. The delicious smell of chicken broth made William's mouth water, and he just then realized how incredibly hungry he was; the training and pre-battle stress coupled with the coma meant he hadn't eaten in nearly two weeks. If he were anything less than a Shinigami, he'd have starved by now, but he just had a stomach that was now cramping painfully with hunger instead.

"Thank you, Ronald." William said, instinctively reaching for the bowl. He was very immensely surprised, however, when Ronald did something he'd never done before; he disobeyed what could have been considered a subtle order. He pulled the bowl back, gently catching William's hand and pressing it back into his lap. William looked down at his hands, then stared at Ronald as though the blond had just called him a very foul name indeed. Ronald had to hold back a smile at William's indignant glare, and William just scowled at him all the harder for it.

"With all due respect, Si-, er, William," He said, readjusting himself and picking up the spoon in the bowl, a generous serving of broth inside. "You can hardly sit up. It's not very safe for you to hold a bowl of hot soup, you know? It would be horrible if you just started improving and then ended up burning yourself, don't you think?"

William opened his mouth to argue, but nothing he could have said could have overrode Ronald's honest, polite logic. Undertaker was giving William a massive grin, and he winked at him from over Ronald's shoulder. Grell stifled a giggle, and William glared at them instead. Had they no sympathy? Sweet Gods above...

Ronald blew on a spoonful of soup and offered it to William, who glared at it as though it was the source of all his problems. Finally, after several seconds, he let out a low sigh of defeat and grudgingly took the spoon in his mouth, continuing to glare at Grell and Undertaker as he let the pleasantly warm soup slide down his throat.

Immediately, his entire body seemed to warm comfortably with the soothing heat of the rich-tasting broth, and he could already feel some strength working its way back into his hunger-weak limbs. His prideful indigence fled him then, and his all-encompassing, sudden need for soup completely rode it over.

Ronald smiled at him encouragingly and offered another spoonful, and William drank it down without any hesitation this time, reveling in the delicious food with his signature straight face and not giving away the fact that, inwardly, he was shamelessly enjoying it. Ronald, never one to be content with silence, glanced over at the other two, who were watching now with simple, lazy contentment, having ran out of things to laugh at because of William's perfect Poker Face.

"So... Did you tell him the good news?"

"Nope." Undertaker said, his usual Chesire grin spreading across his face as Ronald reminded him of the next plan of action, and some deliciously funny thoughts crossed his mind. "You can."

Ronald smiled to himself, his eyes glittering mischievously down at William, who swallowed a spoonful of soup and gave him a suspicious look in return. William's clever eyes flicked to Undertaker and Grell, who were whispering to each other in voices so low that even William's particularly keen ears couldn't hear, and his suspicions grew when Undertaker let out a snort of laughter.

"Let's let him finish his meal first. In the meantime, Undertaker, you should go take care of what I told you about." Ronald said, grinning and winking at the older Shinigami, who's massive grin got even bigger. "Of course, if you're not well enough..."

"Pft, like hell I'm not." He scoffed good-naturedly, still exchanging a grin with Ronald. Grell gracefully unfolded out of his lap and started to wheel the chair out. "I'm getting sick of staying up here, it'll be nice to get out for a bit and get some fresh air."

Ronald couldn't blame him for that; everyone else in the infirmary had been discharged by now, and he and William were the only ones left.

"Don't do anything stupid." William called out after them as Grell removed one hand from the wheelchair and reached out to nudge the already-open infirmary door just a little wider, so they could pass through.

"No promises." Undertaker called back merrily, grinning back at William and waving lazily as Grell pushed him out.

"Grell?" William said, causing the young redhead to pause and look over at him curiously, his red-framed glasses glinting with the light of the hallway.

"Yeeee~s William?" He said, batting his eyes playfully, and William felt his own eye twitch when Undertaker let out another small burst of laughter.

"I'm sorry." William said solemnly, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Truly I am."

Grell's eyes softened, and he shook his head fondly, cocking his hips and looking at William seriously.

"Oh please, William! I told you it's okay!" Grell said, waving his hand dismissively. "But, if you really want to make it up to meeee~..." He said, winking at him and earning a disbelieving look from William.

"Fine. You can have your old scythe back. Just behave yourself, and make sure _he _does too." William said, nodding toward Undertaker, who was leaning back in his chair and grinning at William like he was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen.

"I'll keep him in line!" Grell crowed happily, waving at them as well as he reached back and gripped the doorknob. "Toooo~dles! And make sure you get your beauty sleep, Will!"

"That makes me worry even more." William grumbled as the door wailed shut, and Ronald shook his head fondly, the spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl as he offered the last few doses of soup to his superior.

"They'll be fine." He said, smiling at William as he gulped down another spoon's worth of soup, the color rapidly coming back to his face as his body regained the strength it had lost. "I doubt they could do anything dumb enough to cause massive trauma to either themselves or the Library. Not just yet, anyway."

"Don't underestimate them. Especially now that they're a team."

Ronald laughed, and the two sat in comfortable silence as William finished off what was left of the soup and sat back, feeling better than he had in ages. His stomach full and the last remnants of his fever rapidly easing away, he suddenly felt like he could use a nice, long nap, especially if it were in a comfortably warm sunbeam. Truth be told, it was exactly what he needed, and Ronald knew it. He promptly set the bowl aside when it finally emptied and tugged the covers up around William's chin, making sure he was snug.

"Just get some sleep, William. We can handle ourselves until you're back on your feet. It's calmed down a lot in the past few days. Everyone's getting along a lot more, you know? I guess you'd call it one of those small victories." He said softly, meeting William's eyes, his own soft and comforting. "Jeez, you haven't slept in what... two weeks now? That just isn't healthy."

"Comas don't count?" William asked with dry sarcasm, his eyes sliding closed as weariness stole him over. Ronald chuckled gently and readjusted the covers once more, checking his wristwatch when he was satisfied with their arrangement.

"Not when you're constantly thrashing around and talking to yourself. That just can't be restful." He said pleasantly, dropping his arm and raising his eyes to William's again. "Besides, it's only eight in the morning. A lot of us are sleeping in, since there's no work right now besides the general cleanup. You should take a break for once and just join the crowd, don't you think?"

"First, I'd like to make sure your skull's knitting back together properly." William said, sitting up slightly and motioning for Ronald to come forward. Ronald blinked, then leaned toward him obediently, his face suddenly within two inches of William's. William, though he knew this was coming, still felt the uncomfortably strange, warm stirring in his chest, and his eyes flicked away from Ronald's and he began concentrating pointedly at the bruises on his face, giving nothing away.

"Did you have any other seizures?" He asked, gently feeling the area where Ronald had been hit with his fingertips. Ronald winced a bit, as there was still a lot of bruising there, but William was pleased to find that his skull seemed to have corrected itself and was normal, despite the few lingering bumps and bruises. Ronald didn't seem to have too much pain, either, which was a good sign; a hole in your skull tends to be very painful, indeed.

"No." Ronald said, smiling faintly as he screwed up his eyes and thought wistfully. "I ended up taping an icepack to my head at one point, because I needed my hands, but I was still trying to do what you said. It worked, but I naturally got a bit of teasing out of it. Even Grell giggled at me a couple of times."

"Well, it's good you have a thick skin, then. I'll say it was a smart move, even if you shouldn't have been running around, but it was still better than nothing." He said, sliding his hand down and gently feeling along the bruises of Ronald's cheek, earning another small wince, but no other protest; most likely because Ronald was looking too surprised and pleased at the small praise to be even the slightest bit whiny. Indeed, he hadn't quite been spoiled by Sutcliff just yet, and that gave William hope.

"You're in pretty good shape, Ronald. I'll go ahead and say that you should be all-clear to use one of the tonics. Come to think of it, take one down to Sutcliff, will you?" He said, finally pulling his hands away and leaning back against the pillows, the full force of his exhaustion sweeping over him. "If his leg was any indication, his back should be just as fine as he said it was. Still, I wasn't going to ask him to take his shirt off when he was already on my bed and flirting like there was no tomorrow. Heaven forbid he get the wrong idea."

Ronald smiled down at him and chuckled gently in agreement, and for some reason, he didn't lean away from William, even though he was now free to do so. William cracked an eye open at him, mildly irritated and wishing Ronald would leave, as he wanted sleep badly, and that weird, warm tingling that was still going on in his chest bugged him. However, Ronald's smile got a little bit bigger, and he didn't seem to be taking the hint.

Okay, maybe Sutcliff _did _spoil him.

"Don't you want to know the good news?" Ronald asked quietly, still seated rather close to William, his hand shifting over subtly until it brushed his superior's, causing William to readjust his hands so that the awkward contact was broken. This didn't seem to bother Ronald, who held his leaning position, but kept his hand in place to avoid pestering William further.

"Humor me." William said, his eye sliding closed once more, too body too weary to even keep it open anymore. Frankly, he didn't really care about anything right then but satisfying the unbearable need to sleep, and not even Ronald's strange little advances could change that.

William felt the pressure in the bed shift as Ronald leaned farther forward, and his shadow fell over William, darkening the back of his eyelids slightly. He felt that warm, sweet breath across his face again, and his heart nearly stopped when two soft, supple lips pressed against his mildly bruised cheek in a gentle, brief kiss. William's breath stopped, and he dared not even open his eyes, as he had frozen up with shock and wasn't sure what he should do. Almost as soon as it had come, however, the kiss ended, and William shivered gently as that breath now tickled his sensitive ear instead, Ronald's sweet whisper brushing against it.

"Happy birthday."

William's eyes flew wide open as the bed's weight shifted again, and the sound of Ronald's white Oxfords padding gently across the floor was all that could be heard. William sat up once more, trying, trying his damnedest to find and form words, his heart hammering so hard that he thought it might reopen the wounds on chest. Nothing came, however, but the sight of Ronald slipping through the doorway and sound of the door shrieking closed. William was left staring at it, wondering what had just happened.

All too late, he finally found his voice, and even then, it was hoarse with shock and just above a whisper, with no hope of ever being heard by the golden-haired Shinigami who was now traveling silently down the hallway.

"Thank you."


	40. Stubborn

He wasn't quite sure when his head hit the pillow again, but he was pretty sure he fell asleep immediately, as his sleep was one of the longest, deepest, and most restful he'd ever had. His dreams were vague and meaningless, and were a welcome relief from the nightmarish memories that had plagued him before, and he did not thrash and roll about restlessly any longer. Both his fevered mumbles and his rapid panting had ceased, and he was now only comfortably warm instead of unbearably hot. Indeed, what William enjoyed was a true and honest nap, and it was something he very rarely experienced, making it all the more wonderful for him.

However, he awoke rather abruptly several hours later, wondering where he was and why he was inexplicably drenched in a cold sweat. He blinked, finally remembering what had happened after a second of staring suspiciously at his pillow. It was then he began to wonder why he was so uncomfortably hot once more, before it finally dawned on him; his fever had finally broken, and his body was once again at normal temperature because he had sweat the last of the sickness out in his sleep. Praise the Gods, he was finally completely free of infection.

He rolled over onto his back and sat up slowly, a hand held gingerly to his chest as looked around the infirmary. He tossed the covers aside in order to get rid of the stifling heat that built up, and the cool air that immediately brushed over his torso was wonderful. He realized then that he didn't have his glasses on and had been subconsciously squinting, and he turned and felt around on the pillow, hoping that he hadn't damaged them in his sleep. His hot, ungloved hand met cool metal after several seconds, and he picked up his glasses and slid them on, relieved when the world came into focus and his glasses proved to be perfectly fine.

He surveyed the room once more, finding it as empty as it had been when he had first gone to sleep. Annoyed, he found himself wishing someone else was in there; mostly because he would have killed for a hot bath and fresh clothes, but he wasn't feeling all that optimistic about his leg being anything more than useless just then.

Not that he was an optimist, anyway, but that was beside the point.

Speaking of his leg...

He pulled the covers farther back and sat up straighter, wincing as his chest gave a small, dull throb, and his back creaked and popped; it twice as stiff as usual from William being bedridden for a week, and it was usually uncomfortably tense to begin with. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking ruefully that he could really use a massage, and then finally grimaced down at his leg. Thankfully, his pants (or, what was left of them) were still in place (as having his shirt off so publicly was bad enough; if he'd been totally naked, he would have gone to sleep and never woken up) and he ran a careful hand over the bandages, surveying his injury with grim silence.

His leg, from his lower thigh to his upper calf, was wrapped tightly in fresh white gauze, like his chest and left shoulder. He found that he couldn't really get a good look at it like that, as it hid all imperfections and was a little too thick for him to get a good feel, and he sighed with irritation, rubbing at his temples. He was too sore for this crap, why did _everything _have to be so difficult lately? From the battle to the illness to the dreams to Ronald...

He grimaced twice as hard at this, an angry sort of confusion mixing with the fluttering warmth he felt whenever he thought about the spicy young blond. To be honest, he didn't know whether to kick Ronald's ass or give him a medal of honor for all the things he'd done lately, some more inadvertent than others; and he'd probably do both, anyway, given the chance.

It was probably best not to think about him just then, anyway.

He reached down and gingerly felt the injury once more, wincing slightly as an aching pain radiated up his leg, as though he were poking an overlarge bruise. However, when he pulled his hand away, the pain stopped, and he was rather surprised to find this. Perhaps it was just a large bruise by this point; afterall, it had been several days since he'd split his leg open like a green bean, and even with his fever, he'd had to have healed somewhat.

The only way he'd be able to check his suspicion would be by removing the bandages, but for his own reasons, he hesitated at the very thought of it. He was a modest person by nature, and whereas Grell would strip-tease in public for a buck without a second thought, you'd pretty much have to pay William twenty times as much to so much as take his shoes off, and that was being generous. Though his chest was completely swathed in bandages, save for some revealed flesh at his right shoulder and along his lower abdomen, he felt entirely overexposed and he didn't want to make it worse unless he knew he was in private. Right then, anyone could walk into the infirmary at any second to come check up on him, and as silly as it was, he didn't want to have someone walking in on him taking off his bandages and seeing anymore of his person. He frowned slightly at the uncomfortable thought, and glanced around to see if he could spot a fresh pair of clothes. But, he saw nothing; apparently, they weren't expecting him to be up any time soon.

So, instead of removing the bandages, he bent his knee a little to see if the bone had grown back yet, as he'd be able to tell by whether or not it grated like rocks and sent him in another coma; this one pain-induced.

Nothing quite as drastic as this happened, but his knee gave a loud pop, then an equally loud creak, and he let out a soft yelp of pain as lightning seemed to shoot up his leg and straight to his brain. He quickly straightened his leg out again, setting a hand on his knee and gritting his teeth with agitation, his eyes watering slightly.

Okay, walking was out of the question.

"Dammit..." He said under his breath, not relishing the fact that he would now have to break one of his own rules. Said rule was that once a Shinigami had opened a portal and entered the Library, they were not allowed to use portals to travel within the Library itself unless it was an absolute emergency; they were only allowed to use them to leave and go back to the Mortal Realm. This rule had been put into place because a few of the younger males had been caught in the girls' bathrooms a few times, and William had finally put his foot down after getting the third complaint. The rule was that anyone caught using portals to travel within the Library got their death scythes suspended for a month and had both their soul collection and paperwork quotas doubled for a year. Needless to say, the portal-jumping stopped immediately, as everyone knew William was nothing less than a slavedriver when it came to paperwork.

However, though he hated double-standards, this could have been considered a bit of an emergency, and he was only using a portal to head to his own office. His intentions were perfectly innocent; take a much-needed, relaxing bath in his private bathroom and get a fresh change of clothes, then figure out how much he'd healed and whether or not he'd be able to get around. It's not like he'd be sneaking around and abusing his power as Head Shinigami, right? He wasn't going to go rifling through a secretary's underwear drawer or start putting glue on the toilet seats, he was just taking care of himself.

Regardless of the fact that he knew he was innocent, he still felt guilt as he placed his hand against the wall and closed his eyes, clearing his mind with a few deep, cleansing breaths. After a quiet moment, a bright-blue portal opened just to the side of the bed, between the space between Undertaker's bed and his own, and just next to Undertaker's bedside table. Unable to get up and walk through the entrance, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone, and then pulled himself up as much as possible, aimed, and more or less took a flying flop, promptly landing on his office floor.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the _best _idea ever.

Though he put out a hand to catch himself, the impact still hurt his chest and shoulder terribly, and he grunted with the pain of the impact as the portal behind him closed and the wind was knocked out of him for a brief second. Gritting his teeth, he rolled over and tried to catch his breath, watching the blue light of the portal fade with eyes that were narrowed with irritation.

He caught his breath after a few seconds of staring at the off-white ceiling that jointed with similarly colored walls, then glanced over at the door of his office, pleased to see that it was closed, though it was unlocked. He laid his head back on the polished wood floor, grateful that it would be fairly easy to slide his body across it until he could get his feet back under him, where they belonged. Ah, it had proved itself superior to the carpeting most of his officers preferred yet again, on top of being easy to clean and much less likely to stain.

After a moment of gathering up the small amount of renewed strength he had, he pushed himself into a sitting position with a small grunt of effort. Using one hand to pull and one hand to push himself along, he slid sideways toward the door until he was close enough to reach up and slide the bolt-and-chain lock above into place, securing his privacy. Finally beginning to relax now that he knew he was safe from prying eyes, he turned to lean against the door, surveying his office, wondering what damage Sutcliff could have done when he'd sent him up here to gather some supplies the night of the battle.

To his pleasant surprise, everything appeared to be in order. The mahogany desk atop the deep green rug in the center of the room was well-polished and free of any sign of abuse, the papers on top undisturbed and neatly stacked next to a quill and an ink well, with a stub of candle for light near the corner of the desk. The overstuffed, well-worn, auburn red easychair behind it where William sometimes slept was rotated slightly to the left so that the seat was pointed out and ready for an occupant. The three large filing cabinets against the right wall of the square room were closed and positioned according to the alphabetic order of the files inside, right next to the oak cabinet filled with medical supplies, which was what he'd sent Grell after. Across the room, the many bookshelves lined across the entire left wall contained both books he'd borrowed or permanently removed from the Library, and his own personal collection, which had sadly gone quite ignored ever since he'd taken up the position of Head Shinigami. The back wall across from him opened up into a short hallway with a large window that looked out onto the Library grounds, the sky outside darkening with the approach of dusk, and two doors, the one on the right his bedroom, the other his bathroom. This hallway was his intended destination, and it would probably take him some time to get there.

He pushed away from the door and continued to drag himself forward, heading past his desk (and carefully avoiding the rug) and toward his bedroom. To tell the truth, he was humiliated that he had been reduced to traveling like a beached sea turtle, but glad that no one could see him in such a state. If he had been asked, he said he would have actually preferred to do this instead of getting one of the nurses to help him, as he was sick of being babied, however good-intentioned it might be; so was the stubborn, almost painfully independent nature of William T. Spears.

Finally, after a minute of pushing himself along, his injured leg dragging behind him like a dead weight, he finally reached the bedroom door and grabbed the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open. Inside, his room was extremely neat; a heavy, large oak wardrobe sat to the immediate left of the doorway, with a bedside table right next to it, in the corner of the room. The bed was adorned in black bedsheets and two neatly placed, black and fluffy pillows, and was, of course, perfectly made. The wall to the right of the door had a calender tacked onto it, with a few important notices and reminders next to it, all of them with the correct dates and times for certain events or appointments. Otherwise, it was bare, and led to the backwall, where a small, cozy little stone fireplace was built into the neat, white-washed wall, which had humble, brown, cushioned twin chairs and a matching little coffee table atop an egg-white rug before it.

William slid himself around the doorway and to the wardrobe, grateful for its close quarters. He reached up and tugged it open by the golden knobs that contrasted the dark brown surface nicely, ignoring the several suits and few slightly more casual clothes for the moment, and reaching instead for the back of the wardrobe. He pulled out a black, solid cane with a copper-topped and elegantly decorated grip with a rubber-coated base, breathing a small sigh of thanks that he'd kept it (it had been a gift for the holidays some years before, and he was pretty sure it was from Undertaker), despite the fact that he'd never used it before. He laid it out in his hands and tapped along the length of it with one knuckle, testing it for weakness. When he found none and was sure the cane could hold his weight, he placed both the end of the cane and his good leg against the ground and pushed himself to his feet.

His injured leg gave out a bit, and he stumbled and leaned heavily against the wardrobe for support, his free hand flying out to catch him. He readjusted himself slightly, taking a deep breath, then stood straight again, careful to place most of his weight on the cane this time.

This time, he was able to stay standing without a problem, and he allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction; nothing as simple as an injured leg would stop him. He'd had worse from better.

He pulled out a suit from the wardrobe, careful to keep himself balanced, and draped it over his good shoulder to keep his remaining hand free. Shutting the wardrobe doors, he slid open one of the three drawers below them and pulled out a fresh pair of undergarments and a spare pair of shoes, before limping out of the room and toward the bathroom across the hall, careful to pull the door shut behind him.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, his multicolored eyes flicking around and taking in the entire area within a second. The entire bathroom was white; from the walls, to the perfectly laid tile, to the toilet in the far left corner and the sink next to it, to the clawed bathtub that was neatly placed against the right wall, a towel rack just above and slightly to the left of the head of it. The only thing that contrasted the white surfaces where the plush black towels upon the towel rack, the clothes in the half-full laundry basket tucked into the corner at the foot of the tub, and William's dark blue toothbrush.

William carefully avoided looking into the brightly polished, silver mirror above the sink, and instead closed and locked the door behind him and limped toward the bathtub, the cane thumping gently against the floor as he went. He carefully folded and set his fresh set of clothes and set them on the toilet seat, then sat on the edge of the tub and placed the cane on top of them and within easy reach. He reached back and turned the water on, sighing as the soothing sound of the tub filling drowned out everything else and set his mind at ease.

He slipped out of his trousers and looked grimly down at the bandages wrapped tightly around his leg, not relishing the thought of what he might find there, but knowing he'd have to find out eventually. He reached down and began unraveling the wrappings, wincing as his outstretched leg ached a bit with the motions.

When the bandages were finally off, he tossed them into a small wastebasket under the sink and turned to examine his leg. The self-applied stitches, to his surprise, had apparently been removed since he'd fallen ill, and all he had now was quite a bit of bruising and a long, nasty looking scratch down the front of his knee. However, it was a major improvement from the compound fracture he'd sustained, and he gingerly felt along the injury, finding to his delight that the bones had knit themselves back together and showed only the slightest bit of weakness to his touches; weakness that could be solved with either another few days rest, or one of his own tonics. Either way, the outcome was pleasant, and he could be running around after Sutcliff and kicking his ass sooner than he thought.

Feeling more confident about his condition, he began working off the bandages around his chest and shoulder, hoping for a similar outcome. This took much longer, as there was quite a bit more gauze around his torso, and he shivered when his chest was finally exposed to the air after about two minutes of unraveling. He tossed these bandages away as well, then looked down at his chest, a spark of anger and disdain flooding through him as he remembered that a _demon _of all things was the cause of his injuries. Disgusting...

The four wounds across his chest had diminished into long, angry red scratches, but they too had had their stitches removed, and were much improved from their previous state. He ran a few fingers over them and found that they were sore to the touch, but otherwise well, and the fact that it didn't hurt to breathe meant that his ribs had healed. He looked over at his shoulder, which was also stitch-free, courtesy of the nurses, and was pleased to see they were in a similar state to the injuries on his chest, and were possibly even slightly farther ahead in the healing process.

Pleased to see that all was well, he checked the tub and decided that it was filled to his liking. He shut off the water and slipped out of his underwear , setting them on top of his previously-used trousers (which would have to be thrown out, sadly) so he could put them in the laundry basket once he was through with his bath. Taking off his glasses and setting them on top of his fresh clothes, he wondered vaguely where the rest of his used suit had gone, and decided he'd ask the nurses once he went back down to the infirmary to pick up a tonic for himself.

William lowered himself into the bathtub with a small, content sigh as the hot water settled around him, already beginning to relax his painfully tense muscles. He closed his eyes and laid his head back, his arms stretched out to keep his upper body above water, finally able to relax for the first time in ages. He slit his eyes back open lazily after a few minutes of relaxation, as he had just realized that for the first time in centuries, he'd slept all day, and it had completely skewed his schedule.

Feeling a little strange and irritated that his preciously planned schedule had been thrown off balance, and then getting downright angry when he thought about how demons had been the cause of it, as well as most of the rest of his many problems, William let out a small snort of contempt. He then proceeded to wash his hair and his entire body thoroughly, relieved that he was finally able to clean himself off. After about half an hour of bathing, he pulled the plug to allow the tub to drain, and grabbed a fluffy black towel from the towel wrack above his head.

Using the towel rack to help pull himself up, he got out of the tub with a bit of difficulty and sat on the edge again, toweling himself off and feeling much better, even if his screwed up schedule was still nagging at him. Once he decided he was dry enough, he dressed quickly, then tossed the ruined pants in the trash with his bandages, and his used garments and towel in the laundry basket, making a mental note that he'd have to take it down later. Slipping on his glasses and grabbing the cane, he stood again and limped over so that he was standing before the sink, finally getting up the will to look in the mirror.

He didn't look nearly as bad as he expected, and relaxed immensely when he realized he wasn't looking like a train wreck. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, and he was still a tad pale, but he wasn't really a very tanned person by nature, as hours in the office sometimes meant that he'd go days without going outside. He reached into his left-hand jacket pocket and pulled out a small black comb, then combed his hair into place, parting it carefully and making sure it was neat once more. He then replaced the comb and reached into his right-hand pocket, pulling out a tie and a pair of gloves. He slipped on his gloves and quickly tied the tie around his ever-raised collar, fixing it into place and straightening it with fast, practiced motions. Finally satisfied with his appearance, he gripped the cane again and limped out, shutting the bathroom door behind him with a low _click._

He felt refreshed and ready to take back his place at the Head of the Library, and he decided the next course of action was to track down his trio of mismatched companions and find out just what had happened in his absence. From there, he could finally get the ball rolling again...

As he was passing through his office and planning his next move, however, his eye caught something that immediately made him look over, as it was so wildly out of place that he wondered, dimly, how he'd possibly missed it the first time.

The bottom left drawer of his desk, which was where he kept all of his personal documents, was ajar, jutting out about four inches and revealing the precious documents inside.

He never, _ever _left that drawer open. He always carried around the same silver key he'd used for centuries to open that drawer, and he was always very, _very _careful to close it once he was finished with it. It was where the Neverending Book was kept, along with some very, very private things that William didn't want anyone else getting their hands on, and he was protective to the point of being paranoid about both the key _and _the drawer.

His breath hitched in his throat and his heart began to race, and he immediately changed direction and headed straight for his desk. Unable to kneel down, he instead placed a hand against the top of his desk for support and used the butt of the cane to pull the drawer open, leaning down and examining what was inside with bated breath.

The Neverending Book was gone, of course, as it was still in Grell's jacket, so that didn't worry him. However, his personal folder was open, and he could tell immediately that someone had gone through it, as the papers were slightly misplaced and no longer so carefully alphabetized and tucked away.

He knew that Undertaker had been in here to get the book, but he and William respected each other's privacy, and he never would have even opened that folder without William's consent, much less rifled through it. Besides, William had pounded it into his head _years _ago that if he ever needed to open the drawer, he needed to lock it back up just as badly, and Undertaker had given him the same rule about a certain back room in his house. Therefore, Undertaker was immediately and without question wiped from his list of suspects.

Someone else had been in there.

He immediately reached into his shirt and felt for the key to close and lock the drawer, but he realized with a sudden burst of panic that he didn't have it. Apparently, along with his shirt, vest, and jacket that he'd worn during the battle, his key had gone missing, and for some reason, he hadn't even noticed until now.

It could be anywhere in the Library.

Hell, it might not even be in the Library. Maybe the demons had snitched it.

He wouldn't put it above them.

_"Shit."_ William hissed between clenched teeth, sliding the drawer closed with his foot and heading for the door at twice the speed he had before. Normally, he kept the gentlemens' rule that he'd never say anything that he wouldn't say with a small child in the room, but the slip he normally would have been extremely ashamed of went unnoticed as he slid open the chain lock and opened the door, heading down the hall of the Higher-Officer Wing as fast as his injury would allow. His fear and anger were too urgent just then, and he, frankly, couldn't be bothered with keeping his pace in check.

New plan; find those three imbeciles and figure out _where in the flying fuck his key had gone._

He opened the door to the Higher-Officer Wing, his bath wasted as far as relaxation went, as his muscles were as tense as steel again. Gritting his teeth, he stepped out onto the second floor, the staircase in front of him and the paths to the two balconies that led to the guest room and the infirmary on either side of him, as the door to the Higher-Officer Wing was in the dead center of the second floor.

He moved on, not bothering to survey his surroundings as he habitually would have, and started along the walkway to the infirmary, guessing that that's where they would probably be, and knowing he'd smack them upside their air-filled heads regardless of where he found them.

It wasn't until he was halfway down the walkway that he realized just how eerily still the Library was, even when you took into account that everyone was still recovering. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a voice spoke up from behind him and made him freeze like a deer caught in the light of an approaching vehicle; specifically, a _train._

"We've been waiting for you!"

The cane was pulled quickly and rather roughly from his hand, and there was a shout of laughter as someone pushed him over the railing of the balcony, and he was suddenly falling like a stone.


	41. A Change of Appearance

I got another OC request, this time from UnwrittenWishes, who wanted their OC Alice thrown in. Conveniently, I needed a random office worker for the next chapter, which is just what Alice is. I hope she lives up to expectations, Wishes!

xxx

The walls whipped by in a sudden blur of color, and William could manage nothing but a shocked gasp as he fell straight down. He had no time to think, no time to brace himself, no time to do anything but prepare to suffer a very _painful _landing...

That is, before he hit a thick, taunt sheet of cloth and was painlessly bounced back into the air, his tie flying up and unceremoniously smacking him in the face and letting him know that he was, somehow, still alive.

He only went half as high into the air, and he fell slower, his surroundings becoming somewhat visible as he fell back to Earth. He then hit the sheet a second time, his body bouncing harmlessly up once more, only rising about five feet in the air, before he finally landed for the final time and bounced gently, finally coming to a shocked-stupid stop.

Needless to say, his heart was hammering, and his face was as white as when he had been bedridden. When he finally came to rest, he sat bolt upright, nearly cracking heads with a cackling, overjoyed Undertaker, who had donned his thick, dark gray drapes once more.

Both he and Grell were pulling taunt either end of a large, heavy gray sheet, and they were both wearing massive grins and laughing their asses off at poor William's obvious shock. William, bewildered, but grateful to still be in one piece, gave them a nasty, albeit shaky, glare. However, he was too shocked to be truly angry, and he instead fought to hide his trembling and looked around his cackling companions, wondering where in the hell the rest of the sudden commotion had come from.

Behind them, the entire Shinigami force were all laughing and waving at him, clearly amused by his sudden appearance and his obvious surprise at being forced to "drop in". The bookshelves that normally covered the entire main hall had been carefully pushed aside so that they were pressed against the walls, the books still in place and perfectly ordered, as far as he could tell. In place of the bookshelves, several long tables of food and drink had been set out and a normally empty, single balcony above the main entrance doors had, apparently, been transformed into a temporary stage, which normally only happened during celebrations. William's wide eyes flicked over it all wordlessly, his voice robbed straight from his throat as his reeling mind tried to figure out just what was going on.

"Happy birthday, Will!" The entire communion crowed, and Undertaker laughed and ruffled his hair, clearly amused by his speechlessness. Immediately, cheery, fast-paced music filled the room, and William's cringed as the sudden loud noise seemed to stab directly into his sensitive, unprepared ears.

"Coming down!" A familiar voice called from above, somehow reaching above the music, and William looked up and rolled out of the way just as Ronald, William's cane in his hand, tucked his arms in and jumped from the balcony with an elaborate flip, landing on the sheet and bouncing high into the air like a practiced acrobat. William, propelled a few feet back up in the air by the force of the blow, shot Ronald a look as the two fell back safely onto the sheet. Ronald was wearing a grin as big as everyone else's, and he met William's eyes fearlessly, clearly pleased with himself, and not really seeming to mind if he would be reprimanded.

The blond bounced a bit more, taking another second to settle and jostling William in the process, then rolled off the sheet and stood on the floor, once he had again mastered the forces of Gravity. William, finally realizing that he was just sitting there like a moron while everyone was staring at him, did the same, though his leg hindered him when he tried to stand. Faltering when he tried to put weight on it, he instinctively threw out his hand and grabbed Ronald's shoulder when his leg gave out, and surprisingly strong little Ronald gripped his sides and managed to keep him up without much of a problem at all. William gave him a grateful-if very embarrassed-look, and Ronald simply smiled back at him in such a way that said that no thanks were needed.

Grell and Undertaker both dropped the sheet and began to clap, stirring up a round of applause that went through the entire Library like wildfire. Several people cheered and whistled, and Ronald continued grinning at him as he handed him the cane, patting his back encouragingly and making William feel twice as awkward as he already did, as the sudden, overwhelming amount of attention he was getting, especially when he was used to being nothing more than an intimidating figurehead, was rather unsettling. William used the cane and steadied himself after a brief second of struggle, letting go of Ronald and leaning on his cane instead, thoroughly thunderstruck by the sight before him and, for a second, desperately wishing he'd just stayed in his office.

He started when Undertaker, who was now out of the wheelchair and sporting a pair of crutches, tucked the crutches under his arms and wrapped an arm around him affectionately, chuckling next to his ear and making him acutely aware of his surroundings once more. Grell squealed and hugged him a second later, nearly throwing him off balance once more, and Ronald laughed and caught him from behind, his arms wrapping around William as he found himself caught in a group hug.

He felt his face heat with color, and for the moment, he was frozen in place, his muscles locking up like brakes. Everyone around him looked genuinely happy to be there, as though they didn't mind being made to help out with the celebration, and were actually _enjoying _themselves. What's more, however, was the fact that one of the tables was covered in nicely wrapped presents, and there had to be at least one for every Shinigami in attendance, and then some. What floored William the very most, though, was the fact that there was a celebration at _all. _After his first birthday, most years, he didn't even _get _a "Happy birthday" from anyone, much less a full-blown surprise party with all the stops pulled out. He felt very awkward and pressured to be there, suddenly showered with attention, but at the same time, ashamed because he wasn't feeling grateful that they had gone through all the trouble. It was unsettling and confusing for the normally reclusive Head Shinigami, whose social skills couldn't even begin to be covered by "awkward", and though he'd always wanted a little more recognition, he hadn't wanted so much at one time.

Not knowing what to do at all, he let out a small yelp of shock when he was suddenly released from the tri-hug and pushed forward, stumbling like a newborn colt as his leg trembled and ached with the sudden movement. More cheers rose up, and he found himself suddenly surrounded by Shinigami, all of them congratulating him on his birthday and thanking him for all the hard work he'd done; including both the recent crisis as well as the little things that had always gone ignored. He was being jostled uncomfortably from all sides, and he tried to thank everyone in turn, but it was next to impossible; he was completely surrounded and the almost unbearably loud music was drowning out almost everything he said, as well as starting to give him a headache.

Suddenly, his cane received a particularly rough bump, and he went down immediately as his leg buckled under his own weight. Before he could hit the floor, however, someone grabbed him from each and every side, and he found himself hefted into the air as though he were weightless. He could hear Undertaker's trademark laughter as he was carried off, pushed along by the crowd, and he looked over his sore shoulder when a very familiar blond, who was helping to support his back, spoke up beneath him.

"So," Ronald somehow called above all the noise, a giant grin on his face. "How old does this make you?"

William, mind still reeling from the sudden change of events and the music steadily throwing any coherent thoughts he had out the window, had to take several seconds longer than usual to do the math. One does not live for centuries without losing track every once in awhile, and he shut his eyes and did the mental calculations with much more difficulty than he should have had.

"Uh... Three hundred and twenty-two, I believe." He called back, hoping his voice was loud enough. Ronald and several of the other Shinigami around him stared at him as though he were insane, as most of them were barely even three hundred; Ronald in particular, William knew, was a mere one hundred and twenty eight; indeed, he was definitely one of the youngest on the force. However, he also held one of the highest ranks, and it was merely a testament to his driving will and ambition; despite his young age and occasional rowdiness, the kid definitely had a healthy work ethic. Grell, however, was the exact opposite; he was exactly three hundred, and was steadily moving _down _the corporate ladder. William honestly wondered what Ronald saw in him.

And Undertaker... Well, he didn't even want to _think _about how old he was.

"Damn!" Ronald laughed, impressed, and William flinched when he was suddenly set down in a chair, as gently as sixty-something Shinigami could possibly sit him down (which, unfortunately for him, wasn't quite as gentle as he would have liked). The cane was pressed back into his hand as someone wished him a happy birthday yet again. The crowd pulled back a bit, and a familiar, shaggy-haired, now gray-draped bundle and his ever-red companion showed up before him, just as a dash of golden hair appeared at his shoulder, and he knew without looking who was there.

Grell darted forward and hugged him again, nearly squeezing all the air out of him and making his chest ache with pain. William grunted and tried to pry him off, having little success against the boisterous young Shinigami, whose injuries had been healed and his energy restored by the tonic he'd been given an hour or so earlier. William, who was still sore and rather tired, didn't stand a chance against him, and he was grateful that it was a hug and not a caged death match. Then he really _would _have been screwed.

Grell grinned down at him, and William shivered at the sight of those massive teeth within an inch of his face yet again, the memories of what had happened flashing before his eyes. Grell didn't seem to notice, however, and he continued squeezing the air out of his poor, bewildered boss like he was a tire that needed deflating.

"Are you surprised, Will? You sure look surprised!" He giggled playfully, and William looked up at Undertaker helplessly, still trying to pry Grell off and gasping for air. Undertaker, his eyes glittering with cheer and a massive grin on his face, chuckled and poked Grell in the back of his head with one overlong black nail, finally grabbing the smaller Shinigami's attention.

"Let him breathe, Grell." He said pleasantly, chuckling twice as hard when Grell blushed and let go of William, though he was still wiggling with delight. William coughed and straightened his tie, carefully avoiding the eyes of all those around him.

"We spent all day on this!" Grell crowed happily, bouncing from foot to foot and then preforming a twirl of joy. "It was Ronnie's idea, and we were just looking for you... How'd you get out of the infirmary, anyway? You made us worry, you know!"

William mumbled something incoherent, his face flushing with shame, and Grell exchanged a funny look with Undertaker. The entire crowd of Shinigami had gone silent and were looking at him expectantly, and William felt his face grow hotter still. Oh, Gods, to hell with Sutcliff and his ability to cause _severely _awkward situations...

"Portal." William repeated gruffly, raising his eyes and looking sharply at the crowd, daring anyone to protest this, his face regaining it's normal, fair tone. "I went straight to my office, so don't any of you think that-"

"No one's saying anything, William. Everyone's allowed to break a few rules on their birthday." Ronald chuckled pleasantly from behind him, and the crowd let up a small, unanimous laugh of agreement. William, mildly surprised, finally looked over his shoulder at Ronald, and was instantly struck speechless once more by what he saw.

The bruises on Ronald's face were gone, and his complexion was clear and unblemished once more, giving his skin a healthy glow. Ronald's glasses were off, as they always were whenever he was off duty, but this small difference was hardly what caught William's attention. However, it was certainly _part _of it; the roundish frames always hid the slight, elegant slant of Ronald's eyes, which now had an intelligent, sharp, and very attractive look to them. His fly-away fringe of hair was twice as evident, and served to set off those piercing eyes ten times as much as they stared hypnotically into William's, freezing him into place. His sleek white dress shirt was worn loosely about his frame, but the standard jacket, gloves, and vest were missing, and only the tie, loosened to the point of almost being undone, remained around his ever-popped collar. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, and from his angle, William could easily see where his elegant neck trailed down until it junctioned with evident, stately clavicles, and even caught a glimpse of nicely-tanned skin which covered the toned, firm muscles of Ronald's upper chest

Oh, Gods _above,_ he looked _very _different. No longer like the boyish, playful officer he was while on duty. Now, he looked like... like something that belonged on the cover of one of Sutcliff's cheap, smut-filled romance novels.

Yeah, that seemed accurate.

William's quick eyes took all this in within seconds, and he quickly looked away to avoid looking like he was staring. His heart thudding, he felt that uncomfortable, warm sensation in his chest again, and it was twice as strong as it had been before. Well, he _certainly _hadn't been expecting Ronald to show up like that, so it only seemed reasonable that he would be a little surprised...

"Enough chatter!" Undertaker chirped cheerfully, readjusting himself on his crutches and grinning at all of them as William started from his daydreaming, his eyes whipping around to fix on his elder. "I want some cake."

The entire communion laughed and whooped in agreement, and to his relief, the crowd around William dispersed and spread out around the tables; including Grell, who ran off to get the first piece of cake for William. He let out a deep breath, clearly a little overwhelmed, and then looked at the remaining two of them as though they were insane.

"Way to scare the hell out of me." He growled lightly at Ronald, though he was careful to avoid looking at the blond, lest he be struck speechless by his ravishing appearance once more. "I thought I was going to break my leg all over again."

Ronald laughed, leaning on the back of the chair and making William shift uncomfortably at the sudden close quarters. Good Gods, he didn't think he could concentrate with the feeling of Ronald's breath brushing over the back of his neck like that...

"Of course not, William. I was really careful in my timing. Then again, at the moment, you're not as quick as you usually are, so it wasn't too hard." He said, grinning playfully down at his boss. "You actually landed pretty well, considering the 'ambush'."

William shot him a bit of a look, and Ronald smirked fondly back at him, seemingly oblivious to how this made his eyes glint in such a way that made William squirm inwardly. Undertaker chuckled and pulled up a nearby chair as well, carefully lowering himself into it and setting the crutches aside. William raised an eyebrow, his eyes sweeping up and down his superior, and Undertaker smiled back at him, raising his voice above the sound of the ever-pulsating music.

"I know you're not the most social person ever, William, but I hope you enjoy the party." Undertaker said, leaning back in the chair a little. "It was certainly fun setting it up, and it seems to be getting off to a pretty good start."

"It's a chance for everyone to relax and blow off a little steam." Ronald agreed, still leaning on the back of William's chair and making the older Shinigami more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. "You included. Don't worry, I told everyone to let you have a little breathing room, so hopefully you won't get swarmed like that all night."

"Thank you, Ronald." William said earnestly, breathing a small sigh of relief and chancing a quick glance up at him. "I appreciate how thoughtful this is, but I can only take so many people touching me in one day. I appreciate how you took that into account."

"No problem." Ronald said with an easy, carefree laugh as Grell bounced back over to them, offering a slice of cake to William, who took the cake with a small nod of thanks and removed the small fork Grell had stuck in it, cutting a small piece for himself.

Grell plopped himself in Undertaker's lap, where he could usually be found these days, and grinned at William joyously. William knew from that look that he was about to share something he considered to be a juicy secret, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he took the first bite of cake.

"Ronald's yours for the day." Grell said with a massive smile in the blond's direction, causing Ronald to snort and bat at him playfully, a look of mock-annoyance on his face.

William promptly choked on his bite of cake, and Ronald thumped him on the back as he snatched the handkerchief Undertaker immediately produced from his overlarge sleeve and coughed hard into it, his entire body wracking with his choking, and his chest beginning to ache anew with it. Grell looked rather surprised, if even slightly amused, and both Ronald and Undertaker gave him a slightly exasperated look, both of them clearly wishing that he could have been slightly more subtle; or at least have waited until William didn't have the opportunity to clog his airways.

"He means he paid me and tied an IOU onto my finger, so I'll do anything you want for the next twenty four hours. He doesn't mean that... well, I'm sure you know." Ronald said as William slowly regained himself and gave Grell a very dirty look, the last few, jerking coughs making his body spasm. As evidence to his statement, Ronald help up his left hand, which had a small tag tied to his pinkie that had "IOU" written in neat, elegant scrawl. "Which, I would have done that without being paid, but he insisted, and basically just wouldn't stop hassling me about it. In fact, he actually shoved the money down my pants..."

"I couldn't think of a better present." Grell said with a giggle, nuzzling Undertaker's neck as he spoke. Undertaker grinned and licked his cheek affectionately, earning a small squeal from Grell and a chuckle from Ronald, who flicked Grell's ear. Grell leaned his head back and pouted at him ruefully, looking mildly offended.

"I guess the party and the IOU are sort of my presents to you." Ronald said with a shrug, looking at William a touch apologetically. "Sorry if it's not enough."

William raised an eyebrow and stared at him as though he were mentally challenged, and Ronald stared back at him, completely serious.

"You throw me a massive surprise party, and then enslave yourself to do whatever I want for an entire day, _after_ voluntarily taking care of the Library out of my hands for almost an entire week, and it's somehow not enough?" He asked dryly, taking another bite of cake and continuing to study him skeptically. "Are you really so convinced that I need material things as proof that you wish me well?"

Ronald laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, embarrassed. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Tch," Undertaker snorted, highly amused by the two of them. "Here's mine, but I'll say you might want to open it when you're in private, because it's rather fragile and should have quite a bit of sentimental value for you. Gods forbid they get damaged in the middle of the party. I think you'd have a hernia."

He reached into his overlong sleeve and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped package and handed it to William, who took it and turned it over in his hands, curious. The package was very light and only slightly larger than the size of the average page of paper, and he wondered what sort of important thing could be inside.

"Thank you." He said, setting it in his lap and starting to eat his cake once more, still trying his hardest to block out the painfully loud music. He looked over at Ronald, doing his best not to stare too hard, and being careful to freeze his face into a stoic mask of indifference.

"So, since you're basically my slave for the next day... go up to the infirmary and bring me a tonic, will you? I should be able to use it now without any problems." He said, finishing off the last bit of cake and wiping his mouth clean with the handkerchief. "I'd like to be able to walk again before the end of the night."

Ronald smirked to himself and bowed slightly, causing William to raise an eyebrow at the butler-like display.

"No problem, sir." Ronald said, walking around the chair and heading for the stairs at a brisk pace. "I'll be right back."

"I told you to call me William." He called back above the blaring music, setting the plate aside and staring after the young blond, wondering where in the hell he'd found those sleek black dress shoes that so well complimented those raven-colored slacks he wore, and why in the world he chose to use the Oxfords over those while he was on duty.

"My bad." Ronald called back airily, not really seeming to take the reminder all that seriously. He scaled the steps quickly and headed off for the infirmary, and William flicked his eyes over to Undertaker once the youth was out of sight.

"Now, where's my key?" He asked, his demeanor suddenly darkening quite a bit, his voice dead serious, though he was nearly shouting over the overwhelming noise. Undertaker raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the question; he had no idea the key was missing.

"Your key? I'm shocked, Will, you hold onto that thing like a small child. What happened?" He asked, sitting up a bit and looking down at Grell questioningly, who raised an eyebrow in response.

"Don't look at me, I've got no idea what he's talking about." Grell said, sitting up himself and looking over at William. "Is it important?"

"It's extremely important!" William said sharply, looking more agitated than he had before, as the absence of the key clearly bothered him. "That key is what keeps the drawers on my desk closed, and it was... it was given to me by someone very important quite some time ago!"

Undertaker went silent then, his smile fading into a sad, solemn look immediately. Grell looked up at Undertaker helplessly, then back down at William, who looked sad and angry at the same time as he glared down at the cane in his hands, biting his lip hard.

"...Claudia, huh?" Grell asked, his voice quiet and just barely audible over the music. Hugging Undertaker in an attempt to soothe him, Grell nuzzled Undertaker's nose comfortingly. Undertaker wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek in thanks, giving him a small smile, obviously glad to have him there. William nodded in response to Grell's question, looking pained and lost, and Grell laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, it'll show up..."

"I only took it to get the Book, William." Undertaker said softly, his brow furrowing with worry as he thought it over. "I snitched it from your jacket while we were training, but I put it straight back once I had the Book, and I didn't mention it because I knew you'd kill me for taking it without asking permission. It should have been in your jacket before the fight even broke out, though, so maybe if you find your jacket first, you'll find your key?"

"I hope so." William said grimly, smoothing his hair out restlessly and adjusting his glasses with two fingers. "I have no idea where it could have gone otherwise, but whoever has it went through my desk."

"...That complicates things." Undertaker said grimly, suddenly much more alert, as he sat up straighter and hugged Grell a little closer. "Did they take anything?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't really stop to look." William said, shifting and then standing up, his cane holding his weight steady. "But they definitely messed around in there, and I shudder to think of what they may have seen. As far as I could tell, they only got into one drawer, but it's the very drawer that I put all personal documents in, and that really bothers me."

"It's not like that would cause immediate harm to the Library, you know, since I know for a fact that the Neverending Book is safe." Undertaker said, trying to soothe his now highly agitated colleague by taking the book in question from a fold in his robe as proof and showing it to him, before tucking it safely back into place. "I'm not letting it out of my sight. I was going to return it to you tonight, but since your key is missing, I think we should wait until it shows up."

"It would cause immediate harm to my status." William growled back gruffly. "If I'm just earning some respect, I'd rather not have someone blackmailing me and making me lose it."

"I think you're overreacting."

"I think you're _under_-reacting."

"Well, I _am _the Undertaker."

William scowled at him, unimpressed, and sighed irritably at what he considered to be a terrible pun.

"Regardless, I'm going up to check again. For once, I hope I'm wrong when I say that my personal drawer probably wasn't the only one messed with." He said, heading for the stairs at as brisk a pace as he could manage, rather grateful he had an excuse to get away from the music, even under the circumstances. "Tell Knox that I'm in my office if he gets back before I do."

"Will do." Undertaker called back as William began to climb the stairs, his brow furrowed with anxiety and his shoulders hunched with tension.

No sooner had he hobbled to the top of the stairs than a certain blond-haired, well-dressed youth exited the infirmary, a bottle of tonic in his hand and a smile on his face. William looked over at him, his eyes hard and cold, and Ronald paused, hesitating and wondering what he'd done to fuck up _this _time to earn such a harsh look.

"William?" He asked, approaching him cautiously, his hand clenching nervously on the bottle. "Is something up? Sorry that I took so long, I was having trouble finding the last of-"

"No." William cut across him shortly, rubbing his temples with obvious irritation. "No, it's fine. Just give me the tonic."

Ronald obviously didn't believe him, but he said nothing as he handed the irate Head Shinigami the tonic and watched him uncork it, drinking it down as quickly as possible to keep the rancid taste from sitting in his mouth. He grimaced when he downed the last of the drink, coughing into the crook of his arm; apparently, the taste of cake and the taste of his tonic didn't mix well.

"Ugh, Gods," He gasped, blinking and shaking his head, handing the empty bottle back to Ronald. "I need to work on the taste of that. I'll have to agree with the rest of you, it's _awful."_

Ronald laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and setting the bottle on the railing as he studied his superior with searching, critical eyes. "Well, at least it works, right?" He asked, tapping the previously-bruised side of his face as evidence. "I haven't felt this good in days, and the little energy boost is nice."

"Yeah, well, that's because-"

He broke off sharply as there was a sudden outcry from below and the music was abruptly stopped. He looked down to see that the crowd of Shinigami below had formed a circle in a large space that had been left open as a dance floor, and two Shinigami were arguing in the center of it.

"Give it back, Butch!" The smaller of the two called, and William recognized the voice of one of the office workers, a friendly young girl by the name of Alice Lovell. He frowned, limping to the railing of the balcony and looking down, knowing a fight was bound to break out at any second, and monitoring the situation closely, hoping for the second time in less than five minutes that he was wrong.

"You lost the bet, it's mine." A second voice answered, this one male and gratingly sarcastic. William groaned inwardly at the sound of the voice; it was Randolph Finch speaking, commonly known as "Butch" around the office, and best recognized by his piss-poor attitude. He was a large Shinigami, coming in at 6'5" with a ripped build to match it, which he seemingly never shut up about, despite the fact that the revealing way he always wore his uniforms made it all-too painfully obvious. He was black-haired, green-eyed, and generally just as mean as the average rattlesnake, and he looked very intimidating even when he wasn't towering over the dirty-blond, average-sized Alice, who was much better behaved. Butch, indeed, had been in William's office enough times to rival Grell, and he'd had his position demoted a record of three times, whereas Grell had only been demoted twice. Needless to say, William didn't think very highly of him, and neither did many of his co-workers, as Butch's egotism coupled with his gimme-gimme attitude drove even the most patient Shinigami crazy, William included.

"You cheated! And I never said you could have that!" Alice answered near-frantically, stalking toward the much larger Shinigami, though it was obvious that she was wary of her huge opponent. However, her fear was being overrode by the need to recover whatever he was holding tauntingly above her head; something too small to be seen from the second floor.

"You said I could have a piece of jewelry, I choose this." He said mockingly, dangling the object even farther above her head when she got close enough to reach for it. "Sucks for you, shortie!"

"Finch!" William snapped from the second floor, furious. Everyone, Butch included, looked up immediately, as the sound of William's temper was something that could make even the ditsiest Shinigami snap to attention. "Get up here _immediately,_ I-"

"I've got this." Ronald cut in calmly, making William look over at him sharply, his eyes narrowing in a way that ruthlessly questioned why Ronald dared to interrupt him. "No worries, it's your day off."

Ronald stepped over the railing and jumped to the first floor, not waiting for William to answer. Landing in a perfect crouch, then straightening himself and approaching the two, his hands casually shoved in his pockets, Ronald kept a calm, cool pace, not seeming too bothered by the situation. He passed by Grell and Undertaker, who, like everyone else, were watching him with wide, curious eyes. Undertaker had never seen him behave in such a way before, and neither had William himself, but Grell, a regular partygoer, certainly had, and excitement was building up in him with every step Ronald took.

Oh, things were about to get _interesting._

"Knox..." William said warningly from the second floor, watching him with both indigence at being so openly ignored, coupled with a small spark of anxiety. Just what in the hell was he up to _now?_

Ronald ignored his protest, continuing forward as the circle parted and allowed him to pass through without question, the crowd dead-silent with apprehension. He approached the two calmly, coming in between the tiny, three-foot space between them and gently pushing Alice back with one hand, looking at her coolly and then glancing over at Butch.

"What's the issue?" He asked calmly, though not harshly, his eyes narrowed as he looked up at the object in Butch's hand, finally noticing that it was an attractive gold ring adorned with a pretty red stone.

"I bet him a piece of jewelry that I could beat him in a race across the Library, but he tripped me halfway across and took my ring." She said, the frustration and hurt in her voice clear. "He says that I never said he couldn't do that, so he thinks he can keep it! He's a cheat!"

"Well, she should have been more specific." Butch said mockingly, shoving the ring in his pocket and sneering at both of them, daring either one of them to try and take it back. "She never said I couldn't use tricks, so it was totally fair. She'll get over it."

"That was a gift from a good friend! I'd never bet it!"

"It should be common knowledge that any _real _gentleman wouldn't take advantage of anyone in such a way, especially not a lady." Ronald said coldly, nudging Alice farther back and looking up at Butch fearlessly. The crowd tensed up more, sensing that an honest fight was getting ready to break out, and the tight ring of Shinigami tensed even further.

"And what are you going to do about it, faggot? Go kiss up to the Boss again, huh? Run to him and tattle?" Butch said sarcastically, shoving Ronald back, and causing a hiss to run through the crowd. "I bet you honed that stupid hobby of yours just to get in his pants and earn brownie points, you fucking queer."

Undertaker was getting to his feet in order to get a better look at the situation, and Grell cupped his hands around his mouth and called "Kick his ass, Ronnie!"

William felt his fury building, and he realized that he was getting irrationally angry over Butch insulting Ronald in such a way. He gripped the top of the cane so hard that he was surprised it didn't break, and continued to watch the proceedings like a hawk, ready to step in and break up a riot if he had to. In fact, he was just about to demand that Butch haul his sorry ass up _immediately _when Ronald answered him with dangerous calm, seeming undisturbed by both the taunts and by Grell's encouragement of violent courses of action.

"You know what I bet, Butch? I bet you a hundred, _and _that ring, that I can take you out with three shots. If I lose, you can keep both, and you can beat the shit out of me. Deal?"

Butch stared at Ronald, who was only half his size and known for being a softhearted, gentle person. As Ronald's challenge sank into his tiny mind, he laughed out loud, as though the small Shinigami was the most ridiculous thing in existence and hardly worth his time.

_"You?_ Take _me _down? In three shots?" He cackled, shoving Ronald again and nearly making the blond fall on his ass. Instead, he bumped in Alice and pushed her against the outer fringe of the crowd, out of harm's way. "Fine, I'll take your bet, and your valuables, then I'll whip your ass like you deserve."

No sooner had the words left his lips than Ronald struck, and _Gods,_ did he strike hard, fast, and mercilessly.

A well-aimed, brutal kick to the crotch made Butch double over with a small shout of agony, lights dancing before the unfortunate fool's eyes. As he bent, Ronald promptly kneed him in the face, before he had even the slightest chance of recovering. Butch faltered, his center of balance completely thrown off, and a well-delivered roundhouse kick to the side of his head knocked him over... and unconscious, as he sprawled onto his back and went utterly still.

Wordlessly, Ronald placed a foot against his adversary's chest and reached into Butch's trouser pocket, pulling out the ring, as well as his brown leather wallet. He opened the wallet and thumbed through it quickly, then pulled out the money and closed the leather pouch, tossing it back down on the unconscious Butch with a carefree flick of his wrist.

He turned and handed the ring back to a stunned Alice, who was as quiet as the rest of the crowd, then neatly folded the hundred and placed it into her hand as well, giving her a bright, friendly smile that was utterly contradictory to the brutal takeout he'd just executed.

"I'd recommend avoiding him in the future, he's not what I'd call a savory character. Enjoy the party, and keep the change. It's on me." He said with a polite tone and a small bow. He glanced back at Butch, raising an eyebrow, and then shook his head, almost as though he pitied the fool.

"And someone should _really _get him a nurse."


	42. A Dance and a Discussion

Ronald leapt back to the second floor with an easy, catlike bound, his hands shoved casually back into his pockets once more and a calm, almost cold smile on his face. Grell suddenly let out a cheer, and many of the rest of the Shinigami followed suit as Alice ran off to her friends, her cheeks red with flattered happiness as applause rang out for the young blond fighter. William was the only one who did not join, and he simply studied both the crowd and Ronald, a cold look in his eyes.

William stared silently at Ronald for several seconds when he landed on the railing, raising an eyebrow when the blond sat on the railing of the balcony, dangling his legs over the far edge and smiling coolly at his boss. William, who looked irritated and, possibly, even a tad impressed, finally spoke, his voice quiet and cold, but not angry.

"That was rather unnecessarily rash." William said calmly, carefully avoiding the younger Shinigami's eyes and cringing slightly as the music began again. Oh, what he would have done to be back in his nice, quiet office, where he could actually hear himself _think..._

Ronald shrugged, still perched on the railing next to William, following his superior's line of sight and watching the goings-on below with casual interest. A few Shinigami were dragging Butch off the dance floor and toward his room in the Lower-Officer Wing, most likely to put the troublemaker in his room. To Ronald's mild surprise, Grell was following the two dragging Butch, though he didn't seem to be helping in the slightest. In fact, Grell sped up his pace, walking around the trio without sparing them a glance, but Ronald was pretty sure he saw Grell step on one of Butch's trailing hands as he passed, disappearing into the Wing. The trio followed after him, and then there was the sound of the door being shut. Despite himself, there was a satisfied smirk on Ronald's face when he answered William, causing William to misunderstand the source of his amusement and get slightly annoyed with him, as he wasn't a huge fan of bragging.

"He had it coming." Ronald said with a small smirk. William gently cuffed him upside the head, his voice stern, but not as stern as it usually was when he chastised an officer. Though the party overwhelmed him, he was in a strangely good mood because, now that he'd come to terms with it, he was rather pleased there was a party at all, and he was therefore being a bit lax with punishment... if only for the time being.

"Wipe off that self-satisfied look, Ronald, you know I don't encourage fights in the workplace." He said a bit snippily, glancing over at the youth sternly. "I'll let that fight slide, but I stand by the fact that it wasn't necessary, so don't expect to get off with it if I catch you again."

Ronald rubbed the back of his head, giving William a sheepish smile and laughing slightly, though inwardly, he was a bit stung by the fact that William's usually cold demeanor toward him hadn't changed at all.

"Sorry, William. I promise it won't happen again, I just don't appreciate him mocking sexual orientation." He said, turning his slightly slanted, beautiful eyes back on William once more and frowning slightly. "He thinks he's better than everyone else because he claims to be one of the few of us that are straight, as if that really matters."

William couldn't help but crook an eyebrow at this, and he looked over at the younger Shinigami, feigning disinterest, though he was actually a bit surprised.

"I always got the impression that you were as straight as a ruler, Knox." He said casually, turning his eyes back down to the party and readjusting his weight on the cane once more. "You always seemed to be a ladies' man. However, your recent advances seem to suggest otherwise."

Ronald shrugged, not really bothered by the question, or the fact that William was finally bringing up the topic of Ronald's flirting with him. William looked over at him again when he stretched out on the railing like a cat in a windowsill, laying on his side and propping his head up on one hand as he studied his boss with a small smile. When Ronald changed positions, William got an even better look down his shirt, and he caught an even more revealing glimpse of gorgeously tanned skin than before. After a brief second of shocked observance, he quickly looked away, embarrassment rising in his chest and threatening to wipe away the stoic indifference on his face. However, he fought it down, many years of practice meaning that he kept his face straight with near-perfect ease.

"Nah, I swing both ways." Ronald said airily, waving his hand dismissively, proving that he was honestly undisturbed. "Most of us do, since we're such a small little community and therefore pretty close. It means that if we want to get into the dating game, we can't really be all that picky about what we feel, you know? It's not like mortal laws and morals affect us-or even make that much sense, sometimes-anyway. Some of us just lean closer to one side or the other, like Grell, for instance..."

William rolled his eyes, and Ronald chuckled, knowing that that needed no explanation. Grell's flamboyance was the one thing that was unusual about his orientation in Shinigami society, that, and his desire to be a member of the opposite gender. Putting all of his violent, homicidal tendencies aside, Grell was just like any other Shinigami otherwise, so his sexuality wasn't really what make him an oddball; the way he expressed it did.

"I take it you're the other side of _that _particular coin, then?" William said, his voice still calm and indifferent, though he was honestly very curious about the subject. He was fighting that tingling, warm sensation in his chest again, and what he really wanted to do just then was crack open the reason for Ronald's sudden fondness for stealing kisses. Was he acting out for the fun of acting out, as he sometimes did? Leading William on, possibly? Or, did he have other intentions?

Perhaps a little peek inside his head would provide William with some much-needed answers.

"Beg pardon?" Ronald asked cheerily, blinking over at William with mild curiosity. William glanced back over at him, his eyes lidded coolly; once again, he was pulling off that perfect Poker Face, despite the fact that intrigue was nearly gnawing a hole in him.

"I'm assuming that you lean towards women? They're all I've ever seen you with."

Ronald shrugged, shifting subtly so that the neck of his shirt yawned open just a little bit wider, revealing just a bit more of his left collarbone. William, no longer able to drag his eyes away from the sight of Ronald's chest, reached out and grabbed the left, obnoxiously popped collar that always managed to get on his nerves. Ronald looked down at William's hand, then back up at him, his eyebrow traveling up his forehead and a cool, slightly daring expression on his face. William tugged his shirt up sharply, finally hiding some of the flesh below, and killing two birds with one stone in the way that he was allowed a quick look at Ronald while simultaneously getting a bit of relief by hiding some of that all-to tempting body. He said nothing to reprimand Ronald, however, and instead looked back down at the party, though he wasn't really watching anymore, simply daring Ronald to make the move anything but a small correction in dress.

"I like to think that I like both sexes equally, as it certainly feels that way. Some of the guys here are pretty cute." Ronald said after a second, shifting once more, though he was careful not to reopen the neck of his shirt, least he ruin William's apparent good mood. This time, however, William resisted the urge to look over at him, and succeeded, as Ronald frowned when he didn't even receive the faintest acknowledgment. "I've only ever been with four people, you know. It just so happens they were all women, as they were what caught my fancy at the time."

William shrugged noncommittally, not sure what to make of this, as he'd never really messed around with romance before, ever since it had knocked on his door once, and then metaphorically punched him in the face when he answered. Ronald gently nudged his shoulder, causing William to look at him sharply, demanding explanation with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"I will swear on my scythe that I'm not a player, William." He said softly, so that William had to strain to hear him above the music. "Flirting is fun and all, but I don't use people. Please don't make the mistake of thinking that."

For a Shinigami, that's a very serious swear indeed, and William studied him seriously for a long moment, making sure his eyes met Ronald's and didn't wander. Ronald's eyes held no deceit, no lies, just pure honesty, and something else... something soft that made the bothersome stirring in William's chest increase tenfold. William finally broke the look, holding his silence, and feeling twice as unsure as he had before; a feeling that was a close friend and a bitter enemy, all at the same time.

"Well... what about you?"

William blinked at the question, once again being dragged back to Reality by Ronald's soft, patient voice. Gods, he _really _had to stop zoning out like that...

Ronald was looking at him expectantly, his catlike eyes glinting with curiosity as William returned his look blankly. It took William's distant mind a second to register the question, and he leaned forward on the railing, crossing his arms thoughtfully and debating his answer for several seconds. No matter how he put it, however, it sounded absurd, even in his own mind, and he hesitated slightly before answering.

"...I'm not really sure." He said simply, shrugging and somehow hiding his embarrassment with a mock-interested glance down at Undertaker, who was chatting with a few office workers, and apparently getting along pretty well with them. "I... never really put that much thought into it."

The long silence that followed only served to make William feel worse, and after several increasingly awkward seconds ticked by, he leaned away from the railing and readjusted his grip on the cane in a business-like manor. He turned to head back to his office, seriously wishing that he hadn't said a word, and hoping Ronald would just forget the conversation entirely.

He stopped when Ronald grabbed his arm, dread filling his stomach, and looked sharply over his shoulder at the youth. His eyes narrowed, and he silently dared Ronald to mock him, to question what had just been said in any way that could possibly belittle William in the slightest. Despite the fact that there were no words, the warning was clear; question me, and suffer the consequences. Ronald stared back at him, his eyes soft, and for once, he didn't recoil from the look William gave him, but instead seemed to draw from it.

"William, I-"

The music cut off once more, and William and Ronald looked over sharply when a figure leapt from the floor below and landed neatly at the top of the stairs, at the mouth of the path to the balcony where the two were standing, its back to them. Ronald sat up sharply, his legs dangling over the balcony as he looked around William at the figure with genuine surprise, and William swore that he saw the blond's brow furrow with confusion.

The figure was not anyone William immediately recognized; the long, chocolate brown hair tied back in the oversized, fluffy red bow did not ring any immediate bells, and the figure didn't say a word, which could have tipped William off. The slinky red party dress and the complimenting, black nylon garters accented the high, thin red heels with black accents, which added another four inches of length to the sleek, feminine legs of the individual, and William shot Ronald a look, wondering if the kid had hired prostitutes.

If that were the case, he was going to die.

_Painfully._

A sassy, piano-based musical number suddenly started up, and the figure turned with a sleek twist of its hips, revealing a feminine, heart-shaped face set off by the round lenses of his glasses and the two locks of hair that framed either side of his face, giving him a strange, deceptively innocent look.

It was, of course, none other than Grell Sutcliff, and William could only stare with horrified fascination at the well-known crossdresser; he had a feeling he knew what was coming next, and it, frankly, _terrified _him.

Grell smiled seductively at the two of them, his teeth normal-looking for once. He placed one hand, clad in a long red glove that went all the way up to his elbow, on his hip, and something that looked like a long metal rod glinted in his hand. The other lace-clad hand was raised up and was placed under his chin, and he waved his fingers daintily at William, his eyes half-lidded and glittering with mischief; a mischief that gave away his true intentions behind the innocent disguise he'd used as a butler.

Grell reached back then and pulled out the bow as the piano began to play a very slow, kinky version of a song that only confirmed William's fears. Shaking out his long locks, the crimson red bleeding back into them immediately, he ran a hand through his hair to encourage the return of his brilliant natural color. His smile grew, and his eyes narrowed the slightest amount, his fangs becoming very evident once more and sending a ripple of fear up William's spine. Ronald said something lowly behind him, but it was completely lost upon him as Grell opened his mouth and begin to sing a low, sultry version of an all-too familiar tune.

Grell was a surprisingly good singer, as William lost his voice and found that he couldn't even move anymore, as shock had frozen every nerve in his body, and he certainly felt as though he were filled with heavy, cold ice as Grell began to creep toward them.

"Happy birthday to yoooou~"

Oh, Gods. Oh sweet Gods above, _no._

Grell continued to slowly prowl toward him as a few people in the crowd let out low whoops, and several wolf-whistles went up as well. His heels clicking lowly to match the gentle sway of his hips as he moved, Grell locked eyes with William fearlessly, not afraid to strut his stuff with the entire Library watching him.

Hell, he was probably _enjoying _it.

William looked back at Ronald helplessly, nearly begging for help with the way his eyes widened in shock. Ronald looked just as surprised as William, however, and he whispered lowly as Grell continued to creep forward, his voice barely audible above the steady, sultry sound of the piano.

"I didn't set him up to this! I _swear!"_

Oh, yeah, he was fucked. William T. Spears was officially fucked.

This couldn't possibly get any worse, right?

"Happy birthday to yoooooou~"

William took a tiny step back as Grell raised the rod and gave it a small twirl, and it was only then that he realized just exactly what is was.

_Wrong._

"My scythe..." Came the shocked whisper, and the distress in his voice absolutely comical when it matched up with the completely floored look on his normally stoic face. In response, Grell winked at him, having heard his revelation, his enhanced eyelashes plainly evident behind the rounded frames. He then dug the end of William's scythe into the floor, leaning on it and cocking his hips in a very vulgar way. His heel danced out in a smooth, lewd motion, coming to his hip to jog the trigger there, and the second blade of the scythe extended up and dug into the ceiling, leaving it firmly wedged in place.

Grell had found himself an instant stripper pole.

Grell gripped the pole of the scythe, his hands safe from the blades that were buried harmlessly into the foundation at either end. Grinning wolfishly, he kept up the vulgar tilt of his hips, his hand on one of them, and walked a circle around the scythe as William watched in utter horror. He swayed his hips and came to a stop before his boss, placing both hands above his head and allowing his knees to buckle, causing the dress to ride up a few inches as he slowly slid down the pole, revealing a patch of exposed, creamy thigh just above the frilly garter.

"Happy birthday, dear Williaaaaaa~m,"

Okay, this stopped. _Now._

It had gone way too far as it was.

William took a step forward, and Grell wasted no time in seizing him by the tie to bring their faces just a little too close for comfort, his lips pouting just the slightest bit as that hungry glitter continued to shine in his eye. Both terrified and twice as embarrassed, William felt his face flame red, and he quickly brought his cane forward and tapped the trigger that controlled the blade that was buried into the floor, retracting the scythe immediately. Moving quickly, he slapped Grell's hand off of his tie and grabbed the scythe, yanking it away from him and retracting the second blade in the same motion. Tucking the beloved scythe under his arm, he shoved Grell back to discourage any other advances, glaring bloody murder at the redhead.

Grell, however, had been expecting just this from his uptight boss, and being a complete expert in heels, he moved back without tripping or stumbling in the slightest, then gripped the banister and lifted himself up before he could fall back into it. Perching himself on the slick, well-polished, white-washed wood, he slid down smoothly, giggling as he did so. Winking and waving at William with his fingers once more, finishing the song as he went, Grell let one lacily gloved hand trail behind him as he slid down, his dress sliding up the faintest amount and revealing his thigh seductively once more.

"Happy birthday to yoooooooooooou~!"

He hit the last note perfectly just as he reached the bottom of the banister, and the music ended with a few more elaborately played notes. His heels clicked against the tile as he stood on the ground once more, and he blew a kiss up to a very irate William as he glared back down at him, giving him one more very suggestive wink.

The crowd cheered as Grell turned and walked away, still using an insanely sassy swagger as he went and blowing kisses to many of them, clearly pleased with his own performance. William's eye was twitching uncontrollably as he watched him go, and Ronald inched away from his superior, fully expecting him to either implode, explode, or just go on a good ol' killing spree sometime within the next 2.5 seconds.

A faster-paced, more-dance worthy tune started as Grell approached an open-mouthed Undertaker, who was sitting in his chair once more and staring at him as though he were the most glorious thing he'd ever seen.

Grell placed a hand on the back of the chair and circled Undertaker like a shark considering some poor hapless sea lion. He then came to a stop before Undertaker and drew his hand, feather-light, across his scarred cheek, a sultry smile on his lips as his other hand gave Undertaker's thigh a slow, subtle stroke. He then leaned over his lover, placing a hand against the chair over each of Undertaker's shoulders and grinned wickedly down at him, setting off the beginning of what could only be a _very _lewd dance indeed.

Undertaker didn't seem to mind this public display in the slightest, but William certainly did, as he let out a small_ "Guh." _of disgust and stared down at his scythe, looking absolutely furious with the way it had been so recently defiled.

Ronald, thinking quickly and wishing to avoid what seemed like Grell's impending doom, rolled off of the banister and stood on the ground next to William. He reached out and gripped his superior's arm just above the elbow, looking up at him and seeming both a little concerned and a little frightened by his sudden show of emotion. Whenever William had any obvious expression on his face, besides maybe the occasional annoyed glare, it usually meant that someone was going to get their ass beaten; _badly._

"...Maybe you should come with me." Ronald said in a placating tone, gently tugging him off in the direction of the Higher-Officer Wing. William came along willingly enough, still clutching his scythe as though it were a severed limb that he needed to keep safe. He seemed too shocked and too angered to resist Ronald as the youth dragged him forward, sincerely wondering if he was about to get a death scythe rammed up his ass.

"...I feel so _violated."_ William said hoarsely as Ronald opened the door to the Wing and lead him through like a concerned parent, heading for the end of the hall. "He had the gall to hump my scythe in front of the entire Library. I don't _even..."_

Despite the situation, Ronald couldn't help but smile at William's muttering, and he was glad his boss had his eyes glued to his scythe, otherwise he probably would have had the scythe shoved so far up his ass that he could have pulled the trigger with his tongue.

It had obviously been quite a day for poor William.

However, it wasn't over yet.


	43. Aches and Pains

William finally looked up from his scythe when Ronald paused before a door and pulled a small, brass key from his jacket pocket, sticking it into the lock and giving it a quick twist. William had just been wondering how many times he'd have to disinfect his scythe until he was satisfied when he realized that that wasn't _his _key, and it sure as hell wasn't _his _door, either. It was just then that he looked around and realized that they were six feet away from his room, which stood alone at the end of the hall.

Before he could move toward his own room, however, Ronald had opened the door and was dragging him through the doorway, and the only thing he could do was allow himself to be pulled along as he stared helplessly at the door to his office, just three doors away from where he was now. His leg was too weak for him to resist the way Ronald dragged him in, and he stumbled as he was forced to follow, even with the aid of the cane.

"And just _what _is the meaning of this?" He asked sharply when Ronald had tugged him in and then closed the door with his foot, locking it with a quick flick of his hand. Indeed, William felt unease rise in his chest as the lock clicked into place, he looked around the room, getting a better look than he had last time and expecting to see a cage full of rabid rottweilers in the corner, or something else to explain how he was getting the feeling of impending doom.

The room was slightly smaller than his own, as far as dimensions went, but it had the same layout, which held true for all the Shinigami quarters. A wardrobe identical to William's own was tucked into the right corner, in the joint where the wall branched out before dropping off to form the right side of the hallway, where one of the two doors sat slightly ajar. The walls were painted a subtle, sky blue, and a small, slightly darker blue couch was pressed against the left wall, a small sidetable at the foot of it. In the center of the room, there was a small table with a single, wooden chair, and a few books borrowed from the library were stacked on top of it, a few papers loitering about on top of them. Otherwise, the room was rather bare, with plenty of the warm brown, wooden floor showing, but this wasn't what made William nervous; what made him nervous was the fact that he was in there at all, _especially _considering what he'd seen the last time he'd been in there.

"I figured you could use a little time to rest," Ronald said matter-of-factly, slipping out of his shoes and leaving them by the door, his bare feet traveling soundlessly across the floor as he moved away to give the older Shinigami space. "And let's be honest, if you went back to your own office right now, you'd do just the opposite."

"It's not polite to assume." William said dryly, shoving his free hand into his pocket and eying the shorter Shinigami seriously as he walked across the room and casually plopped down on his couch, drawing up his legs to make room for William, in case he chose not to cut-and-run.

Which, of course, he was still seriously considering.

"With all due respect, William, we both know you'll head straight for the books." Ronald said, an amused smile slipping onto his face as he casually brushed his fly-away locks aside, fixing William with a brilliant gaze. William merely quirked an eyebrow, his face as straight as a steel pole, despite the fact that his heart was beating so loudly that Ronald should have heard it.

"I never said that I wouldn't, I just said that it's impolite to assume." He said coolly, his tone dead-serious.

Ronald laughed at this, but William hardly relaxed, as he was trying very hard not to stare at Ronald's chest, which was a little more exposed than comfortable once more. His shirt had slipped again, and he was finding it impossible to stop staring at that smooth, golden skin, which perfectly framed a pair of elegant clavicles which even the stoic William was finding hard to ignore. William cleared his throat, and Ronald went silent immediately, looking quizzically at him, as though he expected orders.

"Something the matter?" He asked politely, sitting up, cross-legged now. William opened his mouth to tell him to fix his shirt again, but his eye caught something that he hadn't noticed before, and he stared at Ronald as though he were from another planet. Ronald stared back at him, obviously confused, and his eyebrow rose when William slipped out of his own shoes (having a bit of trouble with his left, as his leg was still refusing to be compliant) and limped toward Ronald, standing over him.

"What's in your mouth?" He asked seriously, his brow furrowing with an unintelligible emotion. He knew he'd seem something just then, a faint glint as Ronald spoke, possibly even a glitter, but _definitely _something that hadn't been there any of the other times he had spoken with the blond. Needless to say, he was immediately intrigued, and just a touch annoyed, as he had a feeling he knew what it was.

"If I stick my tongue out at you, do I get to keep it?" Ronald asked seriously, his eyebrow raising until it disappeared behind his fray of bangs. William scowled at him, highly unimpressed now that his suspicions had been confirmed, and let out a long, low sigh of annoyance.

"For the sake of the question, yes, but just this once." He said seriously, his leg beginning to ache once more, silently complaining about how much standing and walking around was going on after days of stillness. Wordlessly, he gave in to the arthritis-like ache and seated himself on the couch next to Ronald, setting the cane on the floor and being careful to keep several inches space between the two of them, as he was still worried that Ronald might try to take advantage of his weakened state. He had no idea what to expect, and the fact that he was very... _inexperienced _with any sort of relationships outside the office just put him on edge twice as much. To be frank, he didn't know what to expect, and since he was used to being prepared for everything, this disturbed him greatly.

Ronald slid his tongue out, knowing it would probably be the only time he'd ever be allowed to do that to William. Immediately, William had to resist the urge to smack him at the sight of the single, silver metal stud in his tongue. Of all things, Ronald had a _tongue piercing. _Joy.

"A piercing? Really?" William asked dryly, looking very annoyed indeed with this development. "And how long have you been hiding that from me? Or did you just get it tonight?"

"I haven't been hiding it." Ronald said innocently, blinking and draping his arms over the arm of the couch, as the sidetable was on the opposite side of where he was sitting, as it was closest to the door. "I don't wear it while I'm on duty, just after hours. I leave the uniform violations to Grell. I've had it for... iunno, ten, eleven years now? It was before I moved upstairs, which meant I was able to hide it then, until the piercing could take well enough for me to use something to keep it open. Afterwards, I didn't even bother trying to wear it on duty, because I knew one of you would see it in a heartbeat. You know how it goes."

William snorted, though he found that he wasn't quite as annoyed as before, thanks to Ronald's honesty and his evident, ever-constant respect for the rules. Ronald seemed to sense this, as a small, calm smile slipped across his face, and he rolled his shoulders back so that a slightly wider area of skin showed on his chest, daring to push his luck a little; afterall, he _was _a gambler. William knew his game now, however, and he pointedly ignored the motion. causing Ronald's smile to slip and falter the faintest amount.

"I'll give you credit for that, at least." William said dryly, rubbing his knee absently in a futile attempt to get some of the ache out. Though it was rapidly healing under the effects of the tonic, it was now twice as stiff and sore because of the same tonic healing it so quickly, and coupled with his recent lack of movement, it was hurting whether or not he touched it at this point. He set his teeth, determined not to show his discomfort, despite the fact that the ache was steadily turning into a stabbing sensation. "But why anyone would want to put a hole in their tongue is beyond me."

"Doesn't Undertaker have _three _holes in his ear?" Ronald asked lightly, not bothering to hide the massive grin on his face. William rolled his eyes, and Ronald let out a small, devilish snicker.

"Oh, he has more than that, and I was never impressed with those, either." Came the blunt response as William continued to absently rub at his knee, unable to hide a wince as a particularly sharp throb shot up his spine and straight to his brain. "But that's beside the point."

Ronald flicked his eyes to William's aching leg calmly, a small frown on his lips as he watched William's hand rubbing at the injury. William, noticing the look, promptly took his hand away from the pained joint and placed his gloved hand in his lap casually, as though he'd been scratching an itch, and not fighting back what was now nearly waves of stabbing, throbbing pain. Ronald flicked his eyes to his superior's face, and William met the look coolly, though he was inwardly furious with himself for being caught.

"How's your leg?" Ronald asked softly, sitting up the slightest amount and studying him seriously, daring him to lie. William's eye twitched as he found himself the subject of his own game; a game which consisted only of looks that seemed to read the other player's mind. He folded his hands in his lap, though his knee was now screaming for attention, and did his best to appear casual, even though amputation was sounding like a good idea at that point.

"Tolerable." He said coolly, eying Ronald as though he were a known serial rapist as the blond sat up straight and leaned forward the slightest amount, locking eyes with William. Oh Gods, what could he possibly be doing _now? _Judging by the cool, nearly cold look in his eyes, it was something William would probably object against.

"Not from what I can see." Ronald said dryly, leaning in on his hands and knees and studying William seriously, causing the senior Shinigami to freeze up nervously, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart sped up again. "Is it stiff?"

Okay, _now _he was just teasing him.

"Slightly." William said calmly, making sure his voice was completely vacant of any sort of emotion, much less innuendo. "But it's tolerable."

Technically, it wasn't a lie, just a massive underestimate. Compared to actually breaking his leg in the first place, the ache in his knee was like comparing a pinch on the arm to getting your hand run over by a car; there _was _no comparison. Therefore, the ache seemed like nothing... as long as he thought about the sight of his own bone sticking out of his leg, and then the aftershow of Grell tearing out a demon's heart...

He suppressed a shudder then, and decided it was _not _the right time to be thinking about such things. In fact, it would _never _be the right time for thinking about such things. Ever. Something like that was too wrong to ever hope of having a "right time".

Before he knew what was happening, Ronald had sat down once again, much closer this time, and he reached down and pulled William's leg into his lap with a single, quick scoop. William, stunned, tried to jerk away, causing a massive bolt of near-agonizing pain to rip up his spine. However, Ronald pinned his leg in place and looked up at him sternly, not letting him move away, but rather locking him in place with his body and his piercing, haunting eyes.

"Don't do that, or you're just going to end up making it worse." He said seriously, placing his hands on William's knee and beginning to gently feel the surrounding area, searching for the highest concentrations of tension. "You're doing it all wrong, anyway. Rubbing it like that is only going to aggravate it."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" William asked sharply, visibly cringing when Ronald touched a particularly sore spot with a prodding finger. He tried to pull away again, reaching for his cane so he could get up and leave, leave and never come back, but Ronald held him in place stubbornly, simply by pressing one shockingly strong arm down on his shin and using that to keep William's leg pinned in his lap. William turned to demand that he let him go immediately, but Ronald fixed him with such a serious, strangely yet strikingly gorgeous look, that his words died in his throat, and he was left staring critically at the blond instead.

"I know what I'm doing," He said quietly, his voice calm and placating, and his prodding paused for the moment. "But you need to relax if you want this to work at all. Otherwise, your muscles are just going to lock right back up, and there won't be any use for it at all, and you're still going to be in pain. You don't want that. _We _don't want that."

"And just what are you doing?" William growled, twice as mistrustful as usual, as he didn't like being touched on the average day, much less being snatched at, then poked and prodded like some laboratory animal. It didn't help that he was already uncomfortable, both because of the situation and because of the pain in his leg, which was steadily getting worse. "You'd better have a damn good excuse, Knox, or you can kiss your rank goodbye for holding me against my will. Understood?"

Ronald raised an eyebrow, staring at him seriously for several seconds. William glared murderously back at him, his unease growing into full-throttle panic when Ronald simply continued to stare at him as though he were an idiot. Obviously, he did not take kindly to the situation at all, much less the fact that Ronald now appeared to think him stupid.

"I'm sorry, William." He said earnestly after a second, his stare turning into a concerned, guilty frown. "I thought you knew."

"Obviously _not, _Knox, or I wouldn't be asking." William snapped, his voice raising a few octaves, enough to echo back off the walls. Ronald flinched hard, and William paused and set his teeth, his emotions teetering between anger and guilt, before finally settling into pure distress born of confusion. He wasn't sure what Ronald had in mind, but he had a feeling he wouldn't like it, as it was going completely against his wishes already. How could it be good when it involved Ronald grabbing his leg out of nowhere and groping it like it was the chest of some twenty-dollar hooker?

That's right, it _couldn't._ No way in the Realms.

"Sorry! I just... It's pretty common knowledge around the office that I'm a masseuse. I... I thought you may have heard, you don't miss much, afterall..." He said, loosening his grip on William's leg and looking up at him with earnestly apologetic eyes, before letting go of his leg entirely, giving him the freedom to leave if he wished. "Correct me if I'm wrong here, but your leg's healing, but locking up as it does, right?"

"Correct." William said stiffly, still watching Ronald like the blond was about to whip out Grell's scythe and cut his leg clean off, which, actually, may not have been such a bad thing, as his leg was hurting so much right now that he didn't think he could walk, even with the cane. However, this was not what made him stay; something else, the way Ronald said he didn't miss much, perhaps, locked him into place, and he was instead left staring at the blond with a nervous sort of intrigue. Ronald, after a few moments silence, realized that William was choosing to stay. He slowly placed his hands back onto William's leg and gently began to knead his fingertips in again, starting to work in earnest now. William winced and tensed up even more, wondering how much of what Ronald was telling him was a lie, as the first few kneading motions _hurt, _as though Ronald were digging his fingers into his nerves just to be cruel.

"I thought so. The same thing happened to Grell while you were out. I helped him with that, though, and I can help you too if you're willing to let me try." Ronald said, pausing his ministrations once more and looking up hesitantly at William through his lashes. "I know it might hurt a bit, but if you relax, it won't be so bad once I work out some of the knots. You're really tense, though, so it might take a minute..."

"That's an incredible amount of innuendo, and it's making me suspicious." William said dryly, though he was no longer struggling against Ronald's touch, as the pain just wasn't worth it, and he had a tiny, nagging voice in the back of his mind told him he should give Ronald a chance; but, only one. "Especially with the way you've been behaving towards me."

Ronald smirked at him, and William glared back in response, wondering what he could possibly find funny about any of it. Ronald, to his shock, then placed a finger against his lips to silence him, and his smile faded slightly, his eyes dimming with a touch of sadness. William felt the warm feeling in his chest resurface and becoming burning hot at the touch, and he went silent immediately, staring at Ronald with honest surprise.

"First of all, you're the one taking it that way, William." Ronald said, his smile growing back when William's cheeks tinted pink at the statement, though the hurt in his eyes remained. "Secondly, have I ever lied to you before? Hell, didn't that arse Butch just mention how I 'honed my hobby to get in your pants'? This is what he was talking about."

William considered this seriously for several seconds, rather wishing that Ronald would move his finger so the burning would stop and he could think clearly. Finally, he could only find one answer that made sense, and it just so happened that he was answering with a question, Ronald's finger still pressed against his lips as he spoke.

"That's true, as I've never caught you in a lie before, but was that oaf right for once?" He said seriously, his eyes cold, mistrustful. "Are you just doing this to get in my pants? It would certainly explain your recent behavior very well."

Ronald pulled his hand away and looked him straight in the eye, his own soft as the mild hurt bled out into a deeper, stung look that, though unaccusing, made William's chest ache with guilt, and he immediately regretted what he had just said.

"No." Ronald said softly, looking down and beginning to knead his leg again with slow, patient movements. "It's simply a way to make a little more money, as people have learned the hard way not to take my bets, and this is more beneficial for both parties, anyway. I've been doing it for about five years now, and not to blow my own horn, by I think I've got it more or less mastered. It surprises me that you haven't heard a word of it." He said, gently pressing on the nerve point just above William's knee, causing the older Shinigami to draw in a small, quick breath, his entire body relaxing the slightest amount at the surprisingly pleasurable touch. The throbbing pain in his knee subsided immediately into a dull ache once more, and he didn't dare move, lest he cause the blissful relief to vanish.

"Besides, I've already told you that I'm not a player." Ronald continued softly, still holding his position on the nerve point and beginning to knead the tension out of William's stiffened joint, making even more of the pain fade into the background. "This will only go as far as you wish, but no further, I promise. It just seemed to me that you were the type who needed incentive before you'd even think of getting into a relationship, and apparently I pushed you too far out of your comfort zone. I'm sorry."

William went silent, finally relaxing a great deal as Ronald's gentle, circular motions began to grow pleasant, and then start to soothe the last of his pain away, little by little. He closed his eyes slowly, feeling earnestly guilty as the silence strung out into minutes, with nothing but the sound of Ronald's fingertips brushing against the fabric of his pants to break the silence. After several long moments of deliberation, William slit his eyes open once more, somehow feeling even worse when he saw the blank expression on Ronald's face. That cut it; he was going to say what needed to be said, no matter how embarrassing it may turn out for him. He was being selfish; after all Ronald had done for him, he was being hostile and paranoid to the youth. It wasn't fair to him, and as Head Shinigami, the one thing William cared most about was equality.

"Don't be sorry." William said with a long, low sigh, covering his face with one hand and allowing his normally-tense muscles to go as loose as he could manage for Ronald's sake. However, years of work-stress coupled with the recent crisis meant that his entire body was rigid with nerves, so it wasn't a very big change at all, and Ronald noticed this with a critical frown.

"Why not? It's my fault." Ronald said with a simple shrug, though William saw the frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. William felt himself frown at this; Ronald was acting like he was used to putting himself down...

"It's just another one of my screw ups, William, I just have to learn to behave. Gods, look at how _tense _you are." He said, frowning harder and working his fingers a little deeper into William's knee, causing the elder Shinigami to let out a tiny, pleasured sigh, despite his best efforts to keep silent. "I'm certainly not helping."

"Ronald..." William said firmly, sitting up a bit more, but being careful to keep his leg still and let Ronald continue, as the way he was rubbing away William's stress was beginning to feel _very _good indeed. "You realize that you're one of my best workers, don't you?" He asked quietly, though his voice was sincere in that ever-serious way of his. "I'm not sure what 'screw-ups' you're speaking of, but I must say that whatever they are, they're _far _outweighed by the progress you've made in such short a time, and the simple fact that you are a hard worker who's good at what he does. Besides," He said, watching as Ronald finally looked up at him with a startled, disbelieving expression. "You saved my life, even if you did get knocked out in the process. My stress is hardly being caused by anything you've done."

Ronald simply stared at him, his cheeks tinting pink with humble embarrassment at the sudden praise. He quickly looked down again, shocked, and kept up with his work on William's leg, and William resisted the urge to let out another pleasured sigh as the rest of the pain slipped away like silk. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of those deft, skilled fingers continuing to work at his now loosened muscles, and frankly wishing that it would never stop.

"Thank you." Ronald whispered after a long moment, and William simply shifted contently, his pain now completely gone.

"No thanks are needed, Ronald. You saved my life and then kept the place running while I was out of commission, and I never heard a word of complaint out of you. A few kisses hardly matter when _I _should be the one wearing the IOU tag."

William's leg was released then, and he looked up in mild disappointment when it was gently pushed back to the floor, and Ronald shifted to his hands and knees once more. William tensed up all over again when Ronald literally crawled into his lap and sat there, his soft, skilled hands reaching up to gently touch William's cheeks as their eyes met; William's wide with wary surprise, Ronald's soft with gratitude and affection.

"No, it's not that." Ronald said softly, captivating William with those gorgeous eyes yet again. His thumbs slowly stroking William's reddening cheeks, and William nearly melted when a beautiful, flattered smile crossed Ronald's face, making him look like an angel. "It's a much bigger deal to me than you think it is." Ronald said, his eyes dropping humbly as he continued. "I've always admired you, William, and I mean always. From the time I was created, you had always been hardworking, punctual, firm yet fair... I couldn't comprehend how you could keep up with everything so well and still have time to breathe. Some days, I _still _can't. I wished I could be like that, and it's what made me look up to you, even if you never seemed to notice my existence. I wished everyone else would stop talking behind your back and see you like I did; to get over the fact they had to work a little, and realize that you were doing what you did because it kept everything straight and it, literally, kept us alive. It still really upsets me to know that it took a _war _to make them realize that."

William stared at Ronald, too stunned for words as he realized what had just come out of Ronald's mouth. Ronald slowly raised his eyes and smiled at him, causing the burning in William's chest to somehow heat up even more when he noticed that the sadness had completely disappeared from his eyes, replaced only by sheer, unbridled joy.

"Still, I was always bending over backwards to try and please you, and I've been waiting _years _for you to say that to me. As weird as it sounds, that was actually sort of my life's goal, if a guy can even _have _a life's goal when he lives for eternity." Ronald said softly, leaning in until his lips nearly brushed William's with every word that he whispered. "So thank _you,_ William, for letting me know that you feel that way, and that my affection wasn't wasted. It makes everything worth it in a way that nothing else can."

William looked away, words completely failing him then. Ronald had just fulfilled _his _"life's goal" with that single confession; the goal that someone, someone outside of one he'd lost, and the one who had been there ever _since _he'd lost everything, and started from scratch, would realize just how much he actually cared for his workers, and thank him, just _once, _to his face. To show him some form of appreciation that came from the heart just one single time, because then he would know that he wasn't alone in the world. That, though happiness had died in his arms once, it wasn't gone forever. That his creator wasn't the only one who gave a damn, because some days, it didn't even seem like _he _remembered William. Ronald had just done that. He'd just called William meaningful in such an honest, open way, that William would have been insane to have doubted him in the slightest, and at the same time, the blond had made his heart throb in a way that only one other ever had.

No, strike that. This was even stronger, even better.

And it was then that William realized he'd fallen completely head-over-heels for his officer.

"You stole the words straight out of my mouth." William whispered huskily, turning his head and meeting Ronald's eyes once more. He didn't think, didn't realize what he was doing; he just knew, right then, he had a chance to get rid of that slow, lonely ache that had been taking him over, little by little, for over three centuries. He had a chance to reach out and catch what had been taunting him, ever since he'd gotten that single, not-enough kiss so long ago, which had only served to worsen that loneliness twenty-fold.

And he took it.

He caught Ronald by the tie and pulled him forward, before either of them could stop and think, and Ronald let out a low gasp of surprise as William kissed him, his eyes widening and his hands gripping William's shoulders tightly, as though he'd never let go. The kiss was brief, no more than a few seconds, and neither tried to invade the other, but it left them both breathless when they pulled apart, their hearts thrumming with both joy and mutual shock.

William was carefully avoiding Ronald's eyes, wondering what in the Realms had possessed him to do such a thing on such a whim. Didn't he have a sense of self-control? Hadn't he spent years learning to pound down impulse in favor of rational thinking? Good Gods, he really _was _slipping... Why in the world he had acted so suddenly, and so rashly, even if the action itself had happened in the blink of an eye?

He blinked in surprise when Ronald let out a low chuckle, and he looked back over at him, still red in the face and now wondering just what Ronald was going to do. Make fun of him? Inform him it was a lie? Probably... That seemed to be how his luck always ran when it came to people.

However, what was said next caught him completely off guard.

"Would you like a massage, William?"

xxx

Do you smell lemon approaching? I smell lemon approaching. XD

Stay tuned, lovelies~!


	44. Inexperienced

D8 Two days without an update, I'm so sorry! It's just the holiday season and things have been a little hectic, you know? That and with school, I've been a tad swamped, and this chapter was also particularly hard to write for some reason. Still, it's also one of the longest I've written, so hopefully that makes up for the delay... right?

Also, no worries, there will be more GrellxUndertaker lemons, you just have to be patient. XD It's time Will and Ron got some love. They're such an underrated pairing, even more so than Grell and Undertaker.

Anyway, Happy Holidays, guys! :D May your trees be filled with presents and your cups with eggnog. Mmm, eggnog...

(Also, speaking of the holidays, there maaaay~ be a little holiday special coming up. I'm thinking it won't be related to C&C, but it'll definitely be fun, so I may be taking a short day or two away from C&C to write that. Care to pop in and join the festivities? ;) )

xxx

William stared at him wordlessly for several long seconds, sizing him up and trying to interpret the bright gleam that was making his eyes shine. Ronald stared back at him, a small but undeniably mischievous smirk tugging at his lips, and William drew in a sharp breath when Ronald began to knead his fingers into his shoulders ever so gently, coaxing him into the offer with gentle twirls of his fingertips.

"C'mon, with everything that's been going on, I bet your back's twice as stiff as your leg was. It's just not healthy to run around like that." Ronald said, gently pecking William's cheek and causing the older Shinigami to shift with embarrassment. "Let me help you out. You'll enjoy it, I promise. It's free of charge, too, since I _am_ wearing an IOU tag..."

"...You swear that you're not going to try anything you might regret?" William asked sternly, though Ronald caught the wary flash in his eyes as he studied the blond critically, searching for deceit. Ronald's eyebrow quirked just the slightest amount, and he gently began stroking down the elder's arms, frowning as he felt the tense knots in the muscles there. He met William's eyes, pausing his motions to study the Head Shinigami with an earnest, soft expression.

"I told you," He said, sliding his hands slowly up William's arms and over his neck, cupping his face and subtly forcing him to meet Ronald's eyes. "This will only go as far as you wish, but no further. I'm not telling anyone what goes on here, and everything is between just you and me. Unless, of course, _you _want to say something, but I honestly don't see that happening any time soon, if ever. Until then, though, my lips are sealed, and we can walk out of here as just acquaintances, as friends, or maybe even something more. It's entirely up to you. Now, would you like a massage?"

William studied him critically, hesitating. The offer seemed honest enough, as Ronald, to prove his point, pulled himself out of William's lap and sat beside him instead, keeping a respectful distance as he waited for an answer. The memory of how good those slim, skilled fingers had felt as they rubbed into his leg tempted him, and the thought of that brief, wondrous kiss even more so, and he would have given in if it weren't for paranoia holding him back once more. Paranoia, and an emotion was that was all-to unpleasantly familiar lately; uneasy surprise. It wasn't often he had much a choice in _anything _besides what to put on his breakfast bagel, as he was used to having his hectic schedule plan everything for him. (Which, really, didn't bother him as much as he knew it should have; it kept him busy and free of memories, and it meant he knew what to expect, and how to deal with it.) Therefore, Ronald's offer was indeed a very intimidating thing indeed, and it both startled and confused William, who was already having a bit of trouble keeping up with what was going on, and _still _trying to figure out his own recent, rash action. William liked his closet free of skeletons (or, as free as it could be, considering what he'd been through up to now), and therefore didn't want to do anything that might make people assume the worst. But those glinting, tilted eyes, that open-necked shirt with the golden skin flashing beneath, and those well-trained fingers were making it all too much to resist. Reluctantly, he gave in, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to walk out now, anyway, even with his knee clear of pain and loose in an almost youthful way, a feeling that was alien to him, as he was used to having joints that creaked with fatigue at the end of the day. The tonic still needed more time, and William's back _had _been feeling pretty sore as of late, anyway.

It couldn't hurt to stay there and kill two birds with one stone, right? He could finish healing up and get a bit of relaxation at the same time. No harm done.

"Fine." William said stiffly, shifting the slightest amount and watching Ronald carefully, still wanting to get a massage, but wondering just how the kid would go about doing things. "But mind your manners. Start groping and you may come up a limb short."

"I can manage that." Ronald said with a pleased smile, stretching his legs out and standing up, leaving the couch clear for occupation. "Lay down, please." He said, gesturing down at the open space and looking at William with an calm, expectant smile.

Okay, now William was having second thoughts. He was expecting the whole action to take place with him sitting up, not while he was lying on his stomach and twice as vulnerable to any lewd things Ronald might try. Stupid as it was, he still didn't trust the kid to not try and cop a feel, and the very thought of getting handled in such a dirty way make William cringe inwardly and become twice as wary of the advances, even if they were completely harmless thus far. If there was going to be a move made, he decided, _he_ wanted to make it, just as he had with the kiss.

"Must I?" William asked dryly, successfully hiding his sudden, slight jolt of panic, showing nothing but a raised eyebrow and his lips pursed in a thin line. "Really, there _must _be another way of doing this..."

"There are, but they're not nearly as effective." Ronald said patiently, leaning against the arm of the couch and continuing to fix William with that same expectant look, making the older Shinigami brush away the urge to fidget. "This is really the best way to do it. It's easier for both of us and it will get you the fastest results. Unless, of course, you were planning to stay the night...?"

Ronald blinked slowly, patiently, like a cat lazily contemplating its surroundings as it lay in a sunbeam. William found himself cursing those majestic eyes once more, which seemed to have the ability to force him to do whatever Ronald asked, without Ronald becoming angry, or even demanding in the slightest. Those eyes turned every mild request into an intense order, but in such a subtle, gentle way that Ronald was left innocent of mind games or other such things. In all honesty, he didn't really seem aware of his subtle talent, and William guessed this was a good thing, otherwise he could probably do whatever the hell he wanted, just by wooing whoever he was speaking with. So, instead of trying to resist further, William simply sighed with irritation and cursed those handsome eyes as he reluctantly obeyed, stretching out on the couch (which just barely accommodated all six feet of him) and watching Ronald with eyes that held the cold, intense look of a cobra.

"Behave yourself." He warned as Ronald approached him again, walking around him until he was in William's blind spot. Trying to appear calm, William kept his eyes straight ahead, though his back was tensing up immensely as he heard shuffling behind him. If Ronald tried anything, William was going to plant his foot so far up his ass that he'd be spitting shoe polish, whether or not he had acknowledged William's existence as something other than a slavedriver. No amount of sucking up would excuse someone groping his ass, no sir.

William, therefore, jumped a mile when Ronald straddled his lower back, and he got so tense that his back began to arch slightly off the couch, his nails digging into the fabric with a slight grating sound. Ronald noticed this immediately, and William felt him shift again, so that he wasn't touching William quite as much, but still straddling him in a very awkward way.

"Are you okay?" Ronald asked warily, knowing that William getting that inert usually meant that someone was about to get their asses beaten, and taking caution because he was the only other living thing in the room. William let out a long, low breath, his hands clenched into nervous fists as he gripped the couch like a drowning man would grip a piece of driftwood.

"I'm not comfortable like this." He said tightly, angling his head to look at Ronald, who was hurriedly slipping away from both he and the couch and backing off with his hands raised in submissive obedience. "There's too much unnecessary contact and I don't like it."

"Sorry!" Ronald said earnestly, shoving his hands in his pockets as William quickly sat up, eying Ronald like he was a terrorist who was about to pull out a double handful of grenades. "There's just not enough room for me to do anything else. It's not exactly a large couch and it's the only good position I could get."

"Nevermind, then." William said curtly, leaning back against the arm of the couch and giving Ronald an even look, though he was panicking inwardly and wishing he were elsewhere. That had just been _way _too much, and he hadn't been expecting anything like Knox suddenly mounting him, that firm, lean set of hips so close to his own...

_Enough. _William thought sharply to himself. _Don't go making a bad situation into a small catastrophe._

Because what frightened him the most was how the warmth that always seared inside him whenever Ronald was near had spread somewhere that it _really _shouldn't have, even if it was only for the briefest second imaginable, and had caused him nothing more than a twitch. He did _not _want to think about getting a spontaneous erection with Ronald sitting on him like that. He'd had to quit his job and then live incognito as a homeless amputee if he ever wanted to live something like _that _down.

Or just throw himself off the mountainside, which would probably be much easier, and slightly less humiliating.

"...Well, there _is _an alternative." Ronald said after a long, awkward moment, rubbing the back of his neck and carefully avoiding William's eyes. William noticed that the hand still shoved in Ronald's pocket was clenched into a nervous fist, and that his cheeks had tinted a light pink.

"Humor me." William said dryly, getting rather irritated to realize that his eyes were being dragged back to Ronald's chest, like magnets, and there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do about it.

"You're not going to like it..."

"Just spit it out."

"My bed is large enough for the two of us." Ronald said bluntly, his cheeks tinting a darker shade of pink. "And I mean that's it's large enough for me to work without touching you too much, not... anything else, okay?"

William stared at him with utter disbelief, as though he'd just begun to speak a Latin form of sign language. With his recent "stirring", so to speak, he wasn't about to hop in bed with the blond, even if he had just outwardly demonstrated affection for him, because he was pretty sure he wasn't ready to compare sizes. To be honest, he did like Ronald quite a bit, in both a business-like way and a much less formal way indeed, but he wasn't quite sure he was ready for anything much more intimate than the occasional peck on the lips or an affectionate hug. When being around Ronald was enough to make his heart stutter in such a weird, unnatural way, he wasn't sure what being in an intimate relationship with him would feel like. Quite frankly, the very prospect freaked him out, and he found himself shying away from the thought of intimacy as though it were a dangerous snake. Therefore, Knox offering to share his bed was quite over-the-top for the elder Shinigami, and he suddenly had the urge to walk out of the door and never come back yet again.

"I'm going to have to pass on that." He said stiffly, and he didn't miss the downtrodden look that crossed Ronald's face. "I have something that I'm looking for, anyway." He said, averting his eyes and trying to ignore Ronald's obvious disappointment.

"If it's your clothes, I have them." Ronald said with a small smile, despite the fact that he was obviously a little deterred. "I was going to throw them in with my laundry, then give them back once I'd gotten someone to mend the tears. I just couldn't get around to it with everything else, though, I'm-"

Before he could so much as finish his apology, however, William had risen from his spot on the couch and was heading straight for the bedroom with a very bad, obviously painful limp, despite the help from both the tonic and Ronald's magic touch, as he had forgone his cane in his sudden haste. Ronald's eyes widened as William passed him and made a beeline for the door that was slightly hanging slightly open, and he turned to follow his superior, chewing his lip anxiously.

"What are you doing?" He asked a little more loudly than he meant to as William pushed open the door and stumbled inside. "You're going to break your leg all over again! It's still way too weak, I can tell!" He cried, momentarily forgetting just who he was talking to as concern for his love interest momentarily overwhelmed him.

Ronald's bedroom was the same as the last time William had stumbled inside, but now that Ronald was dressed and not in his line of sight, he got a chance to study it more closely. The twin bed in the center of the room was draped in light blue, cotton sheets and was not as neatly made as William would have liked, but not exactly a mess, either. The walls were a nice cerulean blue to match the bed, and scattered across it were various posters and notes that William didn't bother stopping to study. Beside the bed, the small bedside table had a black-covered book sitting on top, a black and blue bookmark stuck between the pages, which he could tell, even from a distance, where yellow with age. Since the wardrobe had been moved to the main room, all of Ronald's clothes were hung out in the open, on a long rack that one would normally find in a clothing store. This particular rack neatly fit into the corner on the left-hand side of the doorway, all of Ronald's many clothes neatly sorted into casual and formal categories, with his work clothes toward the front, closest to the bed, and his casual dress further down and closer to the door. Across the room, a fireplace similar to William's own had a low, gently smoldering fire inside, which cast a dim, crimson light on the twin blue easychairs and matching brown coffee table that sat on a smaller blue rug before it. There, William's still-bloodied garments were strung over one of the chairs, and he took a step forward, a shooting, ripping pain traveling up his leg immediately, as the quick trip to the door had already strained it beyond its limit. It hardly surprised either of them, then, when William let out a pained and frustrated hiss, his leg buckling beneath him and causing him to drop like a brick.

However, what _did _surprise him was when he twisted his knee as he went down, _hard,_ and he let out a low scream of shock and agony as the worst pain he'd felt since breaking his leg ripped through his body light lightning. He curled into a ball as soon as he hit the floor, sincerely anticipating the feeling of hot blood running down his skin all over again, and expecting to see red everywhere. A low, strained growl of pain and frustration left him, and he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, trying his damnedest not to black out from pain.

"See? Look at you." Ronald said sternly from above, his voice doused with worry. William felt the smaller Shinigami's hands on his arm, trying to pull him up, and he cringed as pain shot through him again, though he tried to help Ronald help him get to his feet. "Gods, Will... Don't scare me like that!"

William struggled to get his good leg under him as Ronald pulled him up with some difficulty, grunting with exertion and gritting his teeth. Somehow, he succeeded in getting his foot beneath him, and his arm was pulled around Ronald's neck as the blond helped him stand, his bad leg bent slightly to keep it from touching the floor and getting jostled. Ronald began to tug him forward, gently but firmly, and William hopped along after him, his face burning with shame, even though it only took them about four steps to reach the bed. He still _hated _the fact that he had just shown weakness, and even worse was the fact that he'd been dependent on Ronald just to get himself out of it.

William sat down heavily when he reached the edge of the bed, and Ronald let go of his arm, looking rather exasperated as he sat down next to him. William, his leg literally trembling, took his several deep breaths as he anxiously waited for the pain to pass, furious with himself for being so susceptible to such a silly thing as a weak knee. He was the Head Shinigami, dammit! He wasn't supposed to show weakness!

He was supposed to be in control of everything! He'd sworn to himself!

"Let me see." Ronald said softly, and William cringed when Ronald touched the aching joint with inquisitive fingertips, another hot stab of pain shooting up his spine and making stars dance before his eyes. "Gods, William, I hope you didn't sprain it..."

"Just twisted it." William grunted as Ronald scooped up his leg again and began to gently feel the area, causing William to hold back the urge to smack him, just because of the racing pain poking at it caused. He didn't really appreciate his limbs being treated like a small child's playthings, thank you.

Having one leg over the edge of the bed and one in Ronald's lap put him in an awkward position, however, and he was forced to lean back slightly to get his body into a more comfortable alignment. His hands pressed against the bed and supporting the rest of him as he inclined back, William watched Ronald carefully, calculating every single move as it happened and readying himself to pull away should Ronald try anything.

"That looked pretty nasty, though. Sure sounded like it hurt, too." Ronald said grimly, starting to knead his fingers into the tender flesh with the same careful precision as a surgeon. "It looks okay to me, but of course, I'm no medic. I still say you're pretty lucky that you didn't just break it, though."

William made no comment, choosing instead to close his eyes and try to relax as those slim, skilled fingers began to try and work the pain away once more, and the warmth of Ronald's body radiated into his leg, soothing it as a hot water bottle would. Ronald went quiet as well, choosing instead to concentrate on his work with silent determination, his eyes fixated on William's knee as though he were hypnotized. He gently pressed a finger against the nerve point just above William's knee once more, forcing the muscles to relax just enough for him to work, while causing William as little pain as possible. He then expertly kneaded the rest of his fingers into the battered, abused muscles around the kneecap, being as gentle as he could while still being forceful and firm enough to ease out the tension and the pain that the twist had caused. Slowly, after a few silent moments of careful work, he could feel the hard knot in the muscle leaving William's leg, and the stiff posture of the limb eased up slightly as the limb regained its flexibility. Ronald smiled to himself when he saw the progress and continued to work, content to do so all day, just as long as it meant that William was starting to trust his careful touches.

He looked up with mild surprise a few minutes later, when William, unable to restrain himself against the wonderful sensations any longer, let out a quiet, pleasured sigh. He had reclined back even further, onto his elbows, and his eyes were closed, his brow slightly pinched with pleasure as his mind concentrated on the blond's ministrations. He seemed to be easing up, if the way his lips were slightly parted and the way his shoulders were relaxing was any indication. Ronald chuckled softly to himself, and William slit his eyes open reluctantly, noticing that the wondrous treatment had, sadly, paused. He fixed his eyes on Ronald, silently demanding explanation. Ronald didn't miss the faint flush that crossed William's cheeks when his superior finally realized his tiny yet obvious slip, and he smiled and laughed softly, pleased with the results of his work.

"Are you reconsidering my offer?" He asked softly, a mischievous note in his voice as he began to work William's knee again, over-exaggerating each movement and causing William to bite his lip hard in an attempt to keep further noises back, as it felt twice as good as it had before. William scowled at Ronald, knowing that the youth was making him an offer he couldn't refuse, and Ronald smirked back, digging in his fingers and slowly working them in soothing, delicious little circles that made William want to writhe with pleasure.

Instead, William drew in a breath from between clenched teeth, doing his best to hold back another small groan of pleasure, and any sort of undignified wiggling that might escape him. He slit his eyes closed once more, relishing the sensation of those skilled digits banishing all pain and replacing it with pure bliss, as though he'd never feel discomfort again. In all honesty, he couldn't remember the last time his muscles felt so relaxed, and the thought of that same treatment on such a stiff area as his back was enticing, to say the least. Especially when he could say with complete certainty that no, Ronald had _not _been lying about his side job; he sure as hell qualified for a masseuse, to hell with all nay-sayers.

Ronald circled his fingers several more times about the now-relaxed and fluid muscles, chuckling to himself in an almost devious way as William continued to fight to remain silent. William, unable to resist those glorious motions any longer, finally cracked and gave into temptation. He spoke again through gritted teeth, his leg twitching slightly as Ronald massaged carefully into a particularly pleasurable spot just above his knee.

"Are you going to behave?" He asked gruffly, opening his eyes and giving Ronald his typical stern, no-nonsense look. Ronald smiled back at him, his elegant eyes half-lidded and very alluring as his supple lips pulled up seductively, making William's chest burn twice as much and his eyes drop to that exposed area of chest once more.

"Scout's honor." Ronald said softly, removing his hands from William's leg and pulling his own legs onto the bed. "Lay down, then."

William, still wary of Ronald making any bold advances, rolled over onto his stomach and laid still, watching Ronald from the corner of one sharp, two-toned eye, his arms crossed and his chin resting on them as he dared Ronald to break his promise. Ronald readjusted himself so that he was kneeling at William's side, keeping a respectful distance. However, William still jumped a bit when he felt Ronald's hands make contact with his back, and he cursed himself for being so absurdly skittish. For the love of the Gods, it was just Ronald, and he was known for being one of the most respectful officers there was. Why was he being so _irrational _tonight?

_I still don't want him coming on to me._ A tiny, nagging voice in the back of William's mind argued. _I don't want that contact and I just don't trust him. I don't know why, but I don't._

"Relax, relax." Ronald laughed softly, gently running his hands over William to find the areas that needed the most attention, stroking down from his neck and shoulders to his lower back, but being careful to avoid touching the small of his back or going any lower, as William seemed skittish enough without an accidental touch making it worse. William mumbled something sourly in response, and Ronald raised an eyebrow at the state of his back. The muscles beneath his hands were like steel, but not because they were as strong and bulky as the average body builder. Rather, he could literally _feel _them straining with stress and unease, and there were countless knots and pools of pure tension under his hands, to the point that he didn't have the faintest idea of where to start. Inwardly, he cringed at the thought of all those bunched, aching muscles, marveling at how painful it must be, and wondering just how in the _hell _William managed to hide it on a day-to-day basis.

"How do you sleep like this?" Ronald muttered grimly, finally selecting a spot in the center of his back after several seconds of deliberation, and beginning to knead his hands in vigorously, knowing he had a lot of work to do. "Your back has more knots than Grell's hair after a windstorm..."

"I'm sure that's an over-exaggeration." William said dryly, wincing at the feeling of the heels of Ronald's hands digging into his spine, enough to actually cause some pain as they fought a seemingly endless battle against his tension. Ronald dug his palm into the dead center of his spine, and there was an audible _crack!_ just then, and William cringed as a white-hot, electric shot of pain coursed up his back and throughout his entire body, somehow making his muscles get even tighter with strain.

Ronald cringed sympathetically along with him, and paused momentarily, hesitating, before he started to work up William's spine, eliciting a few more pops and cracks as he went, and even managing to make William make an audible, pained noise when he hit a particularly sore spot near his neck.

"Lighten up a bit, will you?" William said sourly, biting his lip against the uncomfortable feeling. Ronald rubbed a hand apologetically over the area that had just caused William to let out a small hiss of discomfort, frowning with concern.

"Sorry... Just try to relax as much as you can..." He said soothingly, rubbing back down William's back to try and work out any other kinks before starting on the deeper, more thorough massage that William so desperately needed. "It'll stop hurting in a minute, I promise."

"I _am _relaxed." William answered grimly, digging his nails into the sheets and trying to loosen his back out even more, gritting his teeth in frustration when he ended up unsuccessful. Was he honestly _that _knotted up? He was so used to being that way that he hadn't even noticed just how bad it was until now...

"Then you must be _really _uncomfortable." Ronald said, beginning to work his fingers into the muscles along his lower back in a slower, much more serious and careful way. "No wonder you're so grouchy all the time, you can't be anything less than miserable like this..."

"Watch it, Knox." William said dryly, though he didn't bother taking too much offense or putting too much emphasis into the warning, as Ronald had a point. He was used to running around with a back so straight it was painful, and constantly having his muscles locking up and getting sore on him throughout the day, giving him random aches hat sometimes felt like large, intrusive bruises. It never did anything to improve his mood, which was always teetering on the edge of "displeased" and "pissed", so naturally, he'd always get quite a bit more sour when he had a few locked up muscles to deal with on top of idiot and troublemaker employees frequenting the office.

"Sorry..." Ronald answered, sounding distracted as he began rubbing his hands into his superior's lower back, his fingertips gently tapping the many nerve points along his spine as he worked, helping to relax the muscles while simultaneously delivering a pleasant, soothing sensation to the area around the nerve. William's back was a mess, but by concentrating on one small area at a time, Ronald was pretty sure he could handle it, even if it would take awhile.

William bit back a small groan of satisfaction when the worst of the discomfort finally ebbed away, and he was left with nothing but the wonderful, raw sensation of the heels of Ronald's hands massaging deeply into the muscles on either side of his back, his deft, skilled fingers doing things he never knew where possible to his spine, like simultaneously cracking out any stiffness and gently rubbing into his sensitive nerve points, using them for pleasure instead of pain, which William was used to doing with his particular fighting technique. It was wonderful, and he suddenly wished that Ronald could be everywhere at once, delivering that kind of bliss to his entire body. Ah, yes, that would be a dream come true...

Slowly, his lower back came unlocked and smoothed itself out, and Ronald slowly, subtly moved up, beginning to knead out his mid-back as a kitten would knead yarn; thoroughly, and quite content to do so. William, his eyes closed as he began to unwind and enjoy the sensations as his paranoia slowly ebbed away with the pain, let out a long, gentle sigh of contentment, forgetting his own rule of remaining silent while Ronald was laying hands on him. Ronald smiled to himself and rubbed his hands over William's sides then, being careful not to miss anything, and he was rewarded with a small mumble of pleasure.

"How're you hanging in there, big guy?" He asked, a tad amused as William shifted and stretched out just a bit more, like an overgrown lapdog who was getting the petting of a lifetime. William tucked his chin into the crook of one arm, exhaling slowly and reveling in the feeling of those glorious hands on his back.

"Good, good..." He mumbled, his brow unfurrowed and completely relaxed for once, looking so at ease that he might as well have been sleeping. "A little to the left... Nn, yeah, good... Right there..." He grunted, biting back would would have been a much louder groan of pleasure as Ronald began to work out a particularly tough knot toward the left of the center of his back, expertly erasing the imperfection and making William wonder, briefly, if he were possibly some sort of angel. He was really just too good at this _not _to be...

Ronald slowly worked his way up to William's upper back, beginning to rub the tension out of his shoulders and the back of his neck. William winced at first when Ronald began to vigorously dig his fingers into the area between his shoulder blades, then let out a sigh of bliss that was quite a bit louder than he had meant it to be when Ronald gently dug his thumbs into his shoulder blades themselves, wiping away tension he didn't even know he had. Those skilled, slender hands slowly slid their way up, erasing any other discomfort as they went, and began rubbing into his shoulders. His fingers dipped in and gently pressed the extremely sensitive nerve points there, exerting just the right amount of pressure to make William arch slightly with pleasure and emit a tiny, pleased groan, despite his best efforts to keep his usual stoic demeanor.

"See? This isn't so bad." Ronald said soothingly from above, sounding slightly amused as he rubbed down his shoulders and along his upper arms, seeking out any stray bits of tension or aching knots to banish. William shifted and readjusted himself willingly to accommodate him, unfolding his arms and allowing Ronald to work on the way down to his hands and gently massage the nerve points between his thumb and index fingers, being careful to keep his eyes closed even when Ronald's warm breath brushed over his cheek. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, that's for sure." He said with a small, amused chuckle, working his hands back up his arms and then down again, erasing any of the discomfort that could have possibly been hiding in his limbs.

"Is that so bad?" William said, meaning to make his retort sarcastic, but rather having it come out as a small sigh of pleasure as those sinfully good hands worked back up his arms, and then began rubbing into his surprisingly sensitive neck with almost scary accuracy. Ronald's fingers dipped below the collar of his dress shirt and rubbed into the sensitive areas there, making him groan again, at a slightly higher volume, everything but the feeling of Ronald's fingers and the burning in his chest-which he had now come to find oddly pleasant-completely dead to him. If the rest of the massage had felt good, this was beyond belief, and he found himself tilting his head to allow Ronald to do as he pleased, realizing dimly that Ronald could have slapped his ass at the point, and he wouldn't have cared, so long as he kept up those delicious, heavenly ministrations on his neck.

"No, that's the whole point." Ronald said, sounding mildly amused, as William looked like he was only a second away from shamelessly beginning to purr, enjoying himself as if there was no tomorrow. "It's nice to see that I'm doing a good job."

His index fingers slipped up as his other digits continued to work into William's neck, and William actually shivered as they slowly, lovingly stroked along his lower jaw, brushing against the sensitive flesh just below his ears, and causing another tiny, pleased murmur to emit from him. It was good, so sweetly, sinfully good...

A little too good...

Wait.

_Shit._

His eyes slid open and he froze immediately, hardly daring to breathe as he realized that the burning warmth, which had been clawing at the inside of his chest like a trapped animal the entire time, had spread somewhere that it really, _really _shouldn't have once again. But this time, it was staying in place, and he was experiencing much more than a friendly twitch. Oh Gods _no... _He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten aroused, and he knew for a damn fact that it hadn't been in front of someone else, because he'd never be caught dead with a bulge out in public. This... this was _horrible, _to say the very least, and Ronald's ministrations were only serving to make the situation twice as bad. At any second, William was expecting him to notice, and his heart began to pound with anxiety, his muscles tensing up just the slightest amount, though they certainly didn't revert back to the iron-like knots they had been before.

Thankfully, though, Ronald was still concentrating on the massage, and hadn't seemed to notice William's sudden awkward situation. His hands were now sliding down William's neck and gently rubbing along his shoulders, working away the sudden, slight tension that William's distress had caused with easy, gentle caresses. To William's horror, however, this only seemed to make his problem worse, as the way Ronald gently swirled his fingers into the crooks of his neck was almost as good as the way he'd rubbed his actual neck before, and he uttered another small, pleased groan at the feeling, even though the length that was now pressing against his thigh only served to make him twice as nervous. Apparently, the ministrations, though not quite as good as when they had reached under his collar, were enough to keep him hot and bothered, and it was insanely frustrating and, somehow, in a sick, perverse way, wonderfully _exhilarating _at the same time.

Ronald slowly slid his hands down William's back, frowning slightly to himself as he felt William tense up again, if only slightly. William cracked an eye open, watching him warily, his hardened length horribly apparent against his thigh as he tried to read the frustratingly distant expression in Ronald's eyes.

"Mm... Feel better?" Ronald said, smiling sweetly down at him as he continued to gently rub his shoulders, pleased with his own work. William's back was now completely free of knots, and the firmness that now remained consisted entirely of the firm strength his muscles contained, honed by years upon years of hard work out on the field, as not _all _of his time was spent at a desk. His back felt much more supple, fluid, and natural, and Ronald guessed it probably felt loads better as well, and he was willing to bet that he'd literally just rubbed away a few centuries worth of strain.

"Yes..." William mumbled, shivering as Ronald trailed his fingertips down his back, searching for any other kinks that may have needed to be worked out, seeming pleased when he found none. It was half truth, half lie; with the tension in his back released for the first time in centuries, he felt incredible, perhaps three hundred years younger, and both energized and relaxed beyond belief at the same time, and he felt as though he could take on the world, bad leg or no. However, at the same time, the length pressing needfully into his thigh was demanding attention after being neglected for so long, and he was getting the feeling that with every passing second, it was getting more and more unlikely that he'd be able to wait it out. With every passing second, it seemed more and more likely that Ronald was going to find his dirty little secret.

This had to be the worst possible scenario...

"Okay, then. Roll over."

"...What?"

"Roll over." Ronald said, quirking an eyebrow and meeting his gaze, utterly straight-faced and calm, though William was ignorant of the fact that Ronald wasn't _nearly _as oblivious to his situation as he seemed. "So I can get your chest."

He spoke too soon.

"My chest is fine." _Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods, no no no..._

"Not if it's anything like your back." Ronald said matter-of-factly, pulling his arms away from William's back and crossing them over over his slender, lithe chest, looking at William as though he'd gone crazy.

"It's not. I never get chest pains. Just back pains. I assure you, I'm fine." William said dryly, his eyes emotionless, even though he was inwardly panicking. He turned his face away and tucked his chin into the cook of his arm once more, closing his eyes tightly and begging, _begging,_ that Ronald would change his mind, or that his arousal would hurry up and leave him. How in the hell was he still horny in a situation like this? Gods, it really _had _been a long time...

"Now, now..." Ronald's voice suddenly breathed into his ear soothingly, and William jumped, his eyes flying open as Ronald's hand crept down and stroked slowly along his hip, causing William to stifle a shudder of both pleasure and apprehension. "You don't have to be shy. You don't have to look at me while I'm doing it. I know it makes a lot of people nervous, but you can just close your eyes. I told you that I'm not going to do anything..."

Suddenly, Ronald's hand slipped under his hip and cupped it, causing William's member to twitch as he let out a low gasp, too startled to act. The blond lifted then, flipping a very surprised William onto his back as a bear would flip a rock. Honestly, that wasn't much of an exaggeration; for someone who was nearly four inches shorter than he, Ronald Knox was impressively strong, almost to the point of it being a little scary. William, when he realized that the obvious bulge in his pants was now plainly revealed to the blond, turned very red in the face and sat bolt upright, nearly colliding heads with Ronald, and rather wishing that he'd die right then and there.

He stared wild-eyed at Ronald, who was staring down at the bulge with mild interest, but not really looking surprised in the slightest. William didn't move a muscle, not sure what in the hell he should do, and frankly wishing that he could sink into the floor and never return.

"Ah..." Ronald said sagely after a moment, closing his eyes slowly and allowing a small smile to tug at his lips. "I thought so."

"Wha..." William mumbled, realizing that he couldn't even form a coherent word at this point, as all the blood in his body seemed to be flushing one head or the other. He was still blushing, very hard, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, he just couldn't get himself to calm down.

"I figured that's why you tensed up again." Ronald said easily, slitting his eyes back open and not seeming bothered or weirded out in the least. "It's perfectly natural, most everyone has a particular area that sets them off. Personally, my ribs are my weakness." He chuckled softly, his hand grazing lightly over William's heated cheek, trying to reassure him. "Seriously, they're like, _ridiculously_ sensitive."

William stared at him, utterly speechless. This kid... this kid was writing it off like it was nothing. Like it was not horribly awkward in every way imaginable. Like it wasn't a reason to be ashamed for a painful lack of self control...

But, he wasn't mocking William in the slightest, and _that _was what really shocked him. He was treating him with a level of understanding that flat-out _baffled_ the brunette, as no one ever seemed to even _try_ and understand him, and here was Ronald, sitting there and reading him like a book.

"A lot of people who come in here have that happen, William, I stopped getting creeped out _ages _ago. Hell, Grell's a regular, and he does it every week, and then he tries coming on to _me._ I've got a strict policy of letting them deal with their own problem, though." Ronald said, rolling his eyes. "Like I said, nothing that happens here leaves the room. Calm down."

William averted his eyes, not put at ease by the slightest by what Ronald was saying. He trusted Ronald far more now, and believed this particular promise, even, but what ashamed him the most was the fact that he'd lost his self control and ended up like this in front of _anyone,_ not just Ronald in particular. He couldn't believe he'd actually let himself go, and he sincerely wished he'd made Ronald bring him back to his own room before this whole fiasco had even started. If he was entirely honest with himself, losing control, with anything, _ever, _scared him witless, because it always made him feel like he was about to become the helpless, terrified, vulnerable creation he'd been during the first war. He was so afraid of it _because_ that other side still lived in him, in the form of those nightmarish memories, and if it ever took over, he was thoroughly convinced that he'd lose everything again.

He didn't want to break. Never again. There were so many people counting on him, and he had so much more to lose now. He had to keep an iron grip on everything, or his foundations would break, and he'd be weak again.

He had to be strong, for all of them.

"However..."

William looked up sharply as Ronald moved forward. his lithe, supple young body suddenly sliding into William's lap, his slender hands gently pushing against his shoulders until he was forced to lean back on his elbows, his face still flushed with shock as Ronald leaned over him, a hand planted over either of his shoulders as he studied William. His eyes, his gorgeous, elegant eyes, still had a spark in them, but it was no longer mischievous, but rather searching, hungry, lustful...

_Sexy..._

"I can make an exception for you, Mr. Spears, if that's what you wish." Ronald breathed, so softly that William almost didn't hear him as an ember in the low-smouldering fire popped. "You're a special customer."

William stared back up at Ronald helplessly, apprehension and temptation mixing in his eyes. His length was still making itself obvious and refusing to go away, and Ronald's position wasn't helping at all. From where he was, William could see straight down his shirt, where his lithe, golden chest was so tauntingly evident now, giving William the best view he'd had yet of the toned-yet-not-quite-ripped abdomen, the sleek, catlike chest, the stately, slim yet strong shoulders...

_Oh, to hell with it, Spears. It's your birthday, live a little. You're still entirely in control of this; even Ronald told you so. _A part of his mind, the metaphorical Devil on his shoulder, encouraged.

_Well, except for one tiny detail..._ Said another, much more skeptical voice.

"I'd be willing to let you do that, Ronald." William said hoarsely, after a long moment, somehow dragging his eyes away from the beautiful body in front of him to stare up at the equally gorgeous face. "But let me just say that I'm... I'm not accustomed to any of this. Not in the slightest."

Ronald blinked, his seductive, prowling look melting into one of ironically innocent surprise as he absorbed the new information. It didn't take long for the message to click, and when it did, Ronald couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Will... you're a virgin?"


	45. Lessons in Love

William cringed visibly, as though Ronald's words had just reached out and slapped him across the face. Ronald was staring at him, seeming thoroughly and genuinely surprised as William's face flushed harder than ever, and he averted his eyes to the low-burning fireplace, not responding to the accusation, and choosing instead to bite his lip until it nearly bled. Ronald blinked in mild confusion, and then sat back a little, perching on William's waist and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his own cheeks tinting pink as he realized that what he'd just said had come out a little more ridiculing than he had meant.

William glanced up when Ronald finally let a low, soft sigh, and he wondered ruefully why his member was only _now _choosing to go flaccid and finally give him some peace. Gods above, it felt like the universe was taunting him lately, using one low-blow after another to stomp down every last ounce of pride in his body. First a surprise attack by demons, then ending up bedridden, then Grell's retardation, and now _this. _Couldn't he ever get a break?

"I... I don't know what to say." Ronald said softly, after another long, awkward moment, and William felt shame course through him anew as Ronald readjusted himself slightly, the feeling of his pelvis rubbing against his abdomen causing another stir in his groin, despite the situation at hand. Where in the hell had his walls gone? Here he was getting turned on no matter _what _Ronald did. Obviously, the fault here was his, no matter how much Ronald tried to blame himself, as William had been the one who was stupid enough to have gone this far, anyway.

"If it's a problem, I'll just take my leave." William said, his voice clipped and strained. Moving to sit up once again, he placed a hand against Ronald's chest and tried to push him off, being a tad more forceful than he meant to be. "I apologize for-"

"No, no." Ronald said soothingly, even though William's touch jostled him a bit. Reaching out and pressing William back down to his elbows-and making the elder Shinigami twice as uneasy and somehow even more embarrassed in the process, though he wasn't sure why-Ronald settled himself over William, keeping him in place by using his body as a cage, at least until he could say what he needed to. William's eyes widened as Ronald's hands fell on either side of his head, and he found himself staring up at the blond, trapped, unless he were rude enough to actually shove Ronald straight off the bed; which, being a gentleman, he wouldn't do unless Ronald had done something to deserve it. Besides, he was just too shocked to do anything besides stare at him in bewilderment, and inhale his sweet, slightly musky scent as he spoke, completely entranced by the beautiful creature holding him down.

"I'm sorry, Will, it just startled me a bit. I didn't mean it like that." He said softly, and William's eyes widened further as Ronald leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth apologetically, making William's heart stutter. "It's just that I can't quite fathom how you can live that long and not... find someone. I'm not trying to make fun of you, I just can't comprehend it..."

"I told you, I never had the time for relationships. Not anything outside of the office, at least." William said, averting his eyes, his cheeks still pink with embarrassment and the feeling of Ronald's breath against his cheek. "The Library isn't exactly a warm lover, but it's all I had." He murmured, voice growing distant, and Ronald watched his eyes dim, and he knew, he _knew,_ there was something more to it that William wasn't telling him.

Ronald studied him silently for a minute, contemplating, William's eyes refusing to meet his own, and he realized just how shy William looked then; not cold but strong, as he usually appeared to be, but, rather, nervous and unsure of himself, as though he didn't know what to do at all, and was all-too aware of it.

_He used to be as timid as a rabbit..._ Undertaker's words echoed in his mind, and it was then that Ronald realized he was catching a glimpse of a much younger, naive William; a William before his entire world had gone to Hell and stolen his bashful nature and bumbling, cheery mishaps.

He was seeing what William would have been if he had not suffered excruciating, unimaginable tragedy and pain.

"...William, what aren't you telling me?" He asked softly, gently cupping William's jaw now, encouraging him to make eye contact, to speak. "Something else is bothering you, I can tell. Please, Will, let me in. Let me help."

William still refused to meet his gaze, and he sighed, long and low and mournful. The silence strung out for several more seconds, before he finally answered, his voice just as dim as his eyes; those normally sharp, clear eyes, that were reminiscent of a hawk's, and just as elegant and clever, but now heartbreakingly clouded with sadness.

"...There was a girl, once, quite a long time ago." He said lowly, voice low and dejected and very unlike the William Ronald knew. "She was as kind as she was beautiful, and I was quite fond of her. I didn't find out that she felt the same about me until after the first war." He closed his eyes then, slowly, and his voice dipped lower yet, until he was nearly whispering. "She kissed me, just once, and then died in my arms. I couldn't do anything. I tried, Ronald, I really did, but I couldn't do anything." He swallowed roughly, and Ronald simply stared at him, totally at loss for words. "I wouldn't even wish that on a demon. I sincerely hope that neither you, nor anyone else in this Library, ever has to go through something like that."

"Oh, _Will..." _Ronald murmured, thinking he felt his heart crack as he just stared at him helplessly, the sadness he felt nearly tearing him in two. "Oh Will, I'm so sorry..."

He frowned deeply, slowly extending his free hand and touching William's cheek with a feather-light brush of his fingertips, being careful not to intimidate him further, as he could tell that William had just opened up to him more than he'd opened up to anyone else, _ever._ Slowly, William finally opened his eyes, and then raised them, hesitantly, and looked up at him. Ronald saw a cocktail of emotion there, emotion William had been hiding ever since he'd been left on his own; fear, uncertainty, sorrow... but, most of all, complete and utter loneliness, and with that single look, William was unintentionally begging for some sort of touch, some loving embrace from someone he knew for certain cared. The sort of touch he'd felt for a fleeting moment, years ago, and so desperately wanted to feel again, so desperately wanted to _have._ As Ronald studied his eyes, he felt sadness and anger of his own; sadness that William had been forced to suffer so much, when he'd done nothing to deserve it, and anger that no one had noticed or even tried to help, but, instead, had only made it worse, even if unintentionally, and had caused William to hurt more and more as the years had slipped by like sand in an hourglass.

Well, Ronald was going to change that. He was going to make it right, to show William happiness once again, and drag a pure, honest smile out of him, come Hell or high water.

And he was going to make sure it _stayed_ this time.

"I can be your lover."

Ronald's hushed whisper broke the silence, his hand moving from William's jaw and brushing slowly over his cheek, his lips turning up into a soft smile as the skin beneath his hand warmed with William's faint blush of surprise. "I can... I _will _be whatever you want, William. I just want to make you happy. I've _always_ wanted to make you happy. It doesn't matter what it is that you ask, I'll do it. Even if I mess up a thousand times, I'll eventually do it perfectly, just for you."

He smiled softly down at William, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, which still held the sadness that was caused by watching William suffer; by seeing what the world had mercilessly turned him into. Carefully, making sure every move was slow and gentle, Ronald's thumbs gently stroked over William's face, and he closed his eyes, leaning in until their lips brushed with every word he spoke.

"I love you, William, for who you are, and for what you've done for me, and for everyone else in this Library. Both those here, and those gone." He whispered, softly yet clearly, his tone conveying all his honesty in the matter. Pausing only to place a gentle kiss on the wide-eyed, silent Shinigami's lips, he continued in the same voice, erasing any and all doubt that the elder had ever had about him. "You've done so much for us, and for me. I can never repay you, but let me do something in return, even if it's so small compared to the debt I owe you. Let me take your troubles away, William, if only for a little while."

Ronald placed a slightly longer, firmer kiss on his lips, a hand still on either of William's flushing cheeks. He then slipped away from him and sat back, releasing him from his makeshift prison without trying to press the kiss along further, as he wasn't sure how William would take what he had just said, and for once, he didn't want to try his luck. Indeed, William was avoiding his eyes again, his cheeks still a rosy color and his chest heaving gently as he struggled to catch his breath, obviously taken aback by what Ronald had just said, and the way the dashing young blond had stolen his breath at the same time. However, Ronald noticed some of the fear had left William's eyes; though he still looked nervous and a little sad, he no longer looked as if he were going to bolt for the door and never return, and his shoulders were no longer being held at a rigid, tense angle, but instead were slightly more slack and relaxed, tilting his body a little further back as he continued to lean on his elbows. Ronald watched him, his heart pounding as he waited apprehensively for William's rejection, his demand for Ronald to leave and never look at or touch him again. Afterall, Ronald's most distinguishing trait was the fact that he could ruin anything, and he doubted his advances would be accepted, and was expecting William to slap him away at any moment...

However, it never happened.

Ronald's eyes widened when William finally, hesitantly faced him again, his firm, lean hand reaching out and catching Ronald's tie, gently tugging him forward until their lips caressed each other. Though he was obviously still a little uneasy about the situation, what Ronald had just said had been the determining factor of a decision he had been fighting with for what felt like an eternity. He needed to feel what he'd felt before so, so badly, and here Ronald was, more than willing to shower him with it, if he'd just let him. He trusted Ronald, maybe even admired him in some ways, but he knew one thing for sure; he was crazy for this man, and crazy for the love he'd just been promised, and he'd be even crazier if he didn't take just one more chance.

It was all or nothing, now; either Ronald was another lie, or everything he'd been hoping for.

"Take me." He whispered, his voice still somehow steady, maybe even a little confident, despite his apprehension. It sent a shiver up Ronald's spine immediately, and he suddenly wanted to do just that, with every last fiber of his being. Obediently, Ronald leaned forward and closed the minute distance between them once more, capturing William's willing mouth with his own.

William held back a small shiver at the feeling of Ronald's supple, firm lips gently moving against his own, and then gasped quietly when Ronald's tongue brushed against his lips, the metal stud gently brushing over the soft surface as he meekly requested entrance. Ronald took advantage of the opening, and moved in to explore William's mouth, his tongue gently sweeping over every surface as he kissed him long and deeply, being careful to keep from pressuring William too much, lest he end up regretting anything, especially what he'd just said. William shivered faintly as Ronald's tongue brushed his own, gently running over it in a loving embrace; he wasn't fighting him for dominance, but rather coaxing him, enticing him into participation, in such a way that William couldn't resist. William recollected himself and fell in step with the kiss, doing his best to match Ronald's movements, nearly breaking the kiss off by mistake as the feeling of Ronald's piercing running over his tongue and sent a spark of excitement racing throughout his entire body, making his very fingertips tingle. Without even knowing what he was doing, William allowed his fingers to tangle in the blond's hair, gently pulling him closer to deepen the kiss as much as possible.

He could have stayed like that forever, with Ronald's hot, moist mouth against his own, but all too soon, Ronald pulled away, leaving them gasping for air as they recovered from the kiss, their lips still tingling from the wondrous contact. William's arousal was back with a vengeance, and judging from the way the blond was fidgeting, Ronald was having a similar problem, though he was doing his best to keep William from noticing, lest it bother the older Shinigami.

Ronald gazed down at him, looking both surprised and pleased that he had joined the kiss so readily, but also a little hesitant, which made William edgy all over again. Had he somehow messed up? Ruined something by some careless mistake? Gods, what he'd _give _to know what Ronald was thinking...

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Ronald whispered breathlessly, his hand reaching down and slowly running up William's side, making the older Shinigami tense up and breathe out slowly, his eyes slipping closed at the gentle, enticing touch. His own fingers disentangled from Ronald's hair, and absently trailed down the blond's neck, aware of the younger Shinigami's soft skin warming beneath his hands.

William, his chest almost aching with the searing sensation that Ronald alone managed to cause, and his member definitely aching for attention, as it was throbbing painfully against his thigh, hardly even had to think. He was still in control, as evidenced by Ronald asking him permission, and how much farther could it go, anyway?

"Yes." He whispered huskily, his throat dry with excitement as he held back a wince, his member giving a particularly painful throb. "Yes, it's fine."

"If you start feeling uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me." Ronald whispered in his ear, kissing William's cheek and sliding his hand over his chest, gripping his tie gently but firmly, and meeting William's eyes as they slowly slid open. "It's fine. I promise I won't mind. I don't want you to feel forced into any of this, okay?"

William nodded quietly, and Ronald smiled down at him and pecked his cheek reassuringly. William then tilted his head back as Ronald sat back slightly, loosening his tie, and then pulling it gently, before slipping it off with the soft sound of silk against cotton. Tossing it aside and leaning down to claim William's willing mouth once more, his fingers slowly crept beneath the collar of William's shirt as their tongues intertwined with more vigor, causing the older Shinigami to shiver just the faintest amount, his hands now gripping at the back of Ronald's shirt. With William quickly learning from the younger Shinigami's movements-though he was still helpless against the feeling of Ronald using that piercing so skillfully-the kiss was able to go at a faster pace, and it stole the breath straight out of their lungs.

He gave a small grunt of frustration when Ronald pulled away again, leaving him panting for air. Ronald's fingers flipped the collar of William's shirt down, and the brunette then gasped in earnest exhilaration when Ronald leaned down and slowly, teasingly ran that sinful stud over the side of his neck, purposely dragging it in such a way that William couldn't help but squirm with pleasure as his need began throbbing twice as hard.

He gasped again, breathlessly, as Ronald slowly traced up and over his jaw, then followed the curve of his ear with the piercing, careful to drag it along just as he had done with his neck. The warm, wet sensation of his tongue coupled with the delicious slide of the ball against one of his most sensitive areas made him want to shout, and he found himself gripping Ronald's sides tightly, wondering how his hands had got there, and finding that he didn't really _care _as Ronald stroked his tongue across his neck once more, and a small, weak moan of frustration escaped him. He realized that he wanted Ronald to touch him, to stroke those slim, skilled hands over his entire body, to use his talent of finding the most vulnerable, sensitive areas to its full advantage...

Ronald slowly pulled away at the sound of the moan, and smirked seductively down at him, kissing the corner of his mouth as he did so. William watched hungrily as Ronald licked his lips, the metal catching the dim light and glinting gently, as though promising more to come.

"What's the matter?" He leaned down and breathed gently into William's ear, causing the elder Shinigami to start as that stud danced across the curve once more, sending a tingle of sensation down his spine. "Do you want me to take it out?"

"N-no..." William gasped as Ronald gently rubbed his fingers into his neck, making him tilt his head back and shut his eyes tightly as bliss flowed throughout his limbs once again. "No, it's good..."

"I thought so." Ronald chuckled softly, and William moaned quietly as Ronald replaced his lips on the side of his neck, his tongue bathing the creamy, sensitive flesh beneath him as his fingers began to unbutton the fastenings of William's jacket. William bit his lip hard, his entire body trembling both with the effort of keeping silent for his Pride's sake, and with the delicious tingles the ministrations were causing. Oh Gods, even _he _hadn't known just how sensitive his neck was...

The black fabric of his jacket fell open after a minute of tampering, and Ronald pulled away, watching William's face carefully as he began to slide the jacket back over his shoulders, searching for any sign of resistance. William, his cheeks and lips flushed with color, his eyes glinting with an animalistic desire that was rather unlike him, rolled his shoulders back and allowed Ronald to slide the jacket down to his elbows, before he leaned in and stole a kiss of his own. Ronald let out a slight, pleasantly surprised gasp, and it was now William who invaded his mouth first, his hand absently sliding up Ronald's shirt to stroke his side, over his sensitive ribs, and causing the younger Shinigami to moan gently into the kiss, a small shiver running throughout his entire body.

"Mmm..." Ronald breathed as they pulled apart, shivering gently as William ran his hand back down his side, stroking slowly, his eyes blissfully sliding closed. "You're actually pretty good at this, Will..." He murmured, though his hand reached out and caught William's wrist, gently restraining him. William blinked dolefully as Ronald pulled his hand away, then brought it to his lips and carefully grasped on finger of the glove away with his teeth, tugging it off. He dropped the glove aside and kissed William's fingertips, then back of his hand, causing a small, gentle shiver to trace down William's body as he drew the piercing across the ends of William's fingers.

"But, I told you to let me take care of everything." Ronald said softly, replacing William's hand at his side and then leaning in to kiss his lips twice, briefly, but with evident, loving care as his hand tugged at the remaining glove, and then tossed it away, choosing instead to intertwine his fingers with William's. "Just lay back and relax..." He murmured, catching William's lips in earnest as his hand squeezed his superior's and then slipped away, his fingers beginning to work open his vest. William moaned softly into the kiss as Ronald captured his lower lip between his teeth and nibbled gently, then released him and slid his tongue over William's, the piercing once again making William's limbs go weak with need,

"Just... Relax..." Ronald mumbled between kisses, sliding William's vest down until it met his jacket once more, his fingers trailing teasingly down his superior's arms as he pushed the garment down. William sat up then, kissing Ronald's neck thrice as he did so, and slid the clothing away himself. He tossed it aside and laid back down immediately, pulling Ronald with him as he claimed his mouth once more, more forcefully than he had before, allowing one hand to slip back up the back of Ronald's shirt, desperate to touch that firm, supple back. Ronald's hands slid across William's chest in response, and William shuddered as Ronald began to massage his chest liberally, just as he had said he would do earlier. However, Ronald was taking the opportunity to tease William's nipples, and he smirked into the kiss as he felt William tremble beneath him, his breath hitching and his heart pounding beneath Ronald's hand as his peaks hardened beneath his fingers.

"Do you like that?" He whispered huskily into William's ear as he rubbed his thumbs into the now-stiff nubs. William tried to make a coherent reply, but as Ronald's fingers slipped between the buttons of his dress shirt and began toying with one of them, he could manage nothing but a weak whimper of pleasure. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, refusing to make another sound, even when Ronald's free hand crept up and began to tease his other peak, rubbing into the sensitive flesh and gently digging his fingers in to intensify the sensation.

Ronald smirked and pecked his lips gently, not missing a beat. His fingers slowly beginning to work away at the buttons of William's shirt, his smile faded back into a concentrated line as he watched again for any signs that William wanted to stop. William gazed back at him, his lips parted as he drew in rapid, light gasps of air, his eyes flicking to Ronald's hand, a mixture of needy lust and shy unease in his eyes. Ronald noticed this, and paused on the mid-button of his shirt, studying him carefully.

"...Do you want to keep going?" He asked softly, being careful not to make a move, lest he cause William to panic and abort the mission. William swallowed hard as he and Ronald watched each other for a long moment, each of them sizing up the situation, then licked his lips and readjusted his arms slightly.

"...Yes." He whispered, meeting Ronald's gaze shyly and then flicking his eyes away, another blush coloring his face. He was pretty sure he'd never voluntarily revealed himself like that to anyone, afterall. "Yes, go ahead."

Ronald leaned in and pecked his cheek, and William turned his head, searching and trying to claim his lips. Ronald willingly obeyed, and the two met again, exploring each other's mouths once more as Ronald opened the last of the buttons and pushed the dress shirt open, revealing William to the open, firewarmed air. He pulled away from the kiss then, and leaned back to study the Shinigami below him.

He drew in a sharp breath as he observed William; his smooth, porcelain skin flawlessly showed off the firm, deceptively subtle muscles of his chest, which blended perfectly into the lean, fit abdomen below. His pants had slid down slightly over the course of their interaction, despite the conservative, black leather belt holding them in place, and Ronald could see the beginnings of his defined pelvic bones and, below that, the obvious arousal trapped beneath the fabric of his pants. His eyes slowly, admiringly traveled back up to William's face, past the handsome, broad shoulders, the prominent collarbones, and the elegant, ever-sensitive neck, and he found that William was avoiding his eyes yet again, looking twice as shy as he hard before. He was laying completely still, as though he was now scared to move, lest he make a mistake, and Ronald could see the nervous tension in his shoulders.

And, indeed, that's exactly how he felt; he could feel Ronald's eyes taking him in, and he was scared to know what the younger Shinigami thought, but at the same time, wishing that the blond would just spit it out already. He'd always considered himself rather average looking, nothing special at all, and the women he'd seen Ronald with had been quite pretty, indeed, William had to admit that. Therefore, he didn't know what Ronald was expecting, and he was honestly doubting that he'd live up to any expectations Ronald may have. Disappointing the blond at this stage would probably be even worse than anything else that had happened up to this point, and he couldn't help but wonder if Ronald would flat-out walk away at any second.

Therefore, he was very surprised when Ronald let out a long, slow breath, his hand gently brushing William's neck, making him shiver, then traveling over a shoulder, a clavicle, down William's upper chest, and stroking slowly over his abdomen, Ronald's eyes following it as he continued to stare at William hungrily.

"Gods, Will..." He whispered, swallowing roughly and leaning forward, placing several rapid, adoring kisses on the side of his neck and over his jaw, delighting in the way they made William tremble gently beneath him. "You're gorgeous..."

William felt himself blush, and he moaned softly as Ronald dipped his head and began sucking gently on the side of his neck, the fingers of his right hand stroking spiderweb patterns across William's chest. Slowly, teasingly, Ronald pulled away and began trailing wet kisses down his neck and chest, causing William twitch and stir restlessly, his throbbing need aching horribly as Ronald's breath swept over his stomach in hot, rapid waves.

Suddenly, Ronald's mouth closed around one hardened peak, and William bit back a moan as he sucked gently on the sensitive area, his fingers sliding over William's chest and beginning to toy with the other nub. At the same time, his hips dipped, and William cried out lowly as Ronald's rigid length ground against his own through the combined fabric of their pants. At the sound of William's voice, Ronald bit down gently on the nub and rolled it between his teeth, his tongue, and that_ infernal fucking piercing, _rubbing and fluttering against it, threatening to make William lose his mind. Simultaneously, Ronald's fingers pinched and toyed with the other hardened peak as his hips continued to rub against William's, grinding more and more insistently, until he wanted to scream with the sheer pleasure it was causing him, but managed to control himself just enough that it became nothing more than a helpless moan.

Ronald continued to suck and lick at the nub for several long moments, still rocking their hips together, then pulled away for air. He gave the abused peak a long, slow, apologetic stroke with his tongue, careful to make the stud slide teasingly against it and earning a loud, breathless groan in return. He smirked to himself, panting with lust as he pulled his hips away from William's, raising his eyes to meet his superior's.

William's eyes were tightly closed, however, and he was panting even harder than Ronald, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Ronald was only now aware of the hands tightly gripping his sides, and he moaned softly as William loosened his grip and began to slide his hands upwards, this time not only allowing his fingers to slip beneath the fabric, but to push Ronald's shirt up as he went.

William's eyes slid open, and he paused, studying the expanse of lean, toned stomach that he had revealed, a lusty look in his eye. He raised both hands, beginning to unfasten the buttons of Ronald's shirt, not bothering to ask permission, as the way Ronald leaned forward after a second to allow him to easily reach the last few was approval enough. Ronald shivered when William slipped the last button out of the hole that restrained it, and he sat up as soon as it was free. Grabbing his tie, he loosened it and pulled it off within three seconds, tossing it to the floor with a flick of his wrist. Meeting William's eyes, a hungry, devious glint in his own, he then slid the shirt back over his shoulders and tossed it aside as well, leaving William speechless at the sight of the cat-eyed, devastatingly beautiful creature before him, wondering how in the _hell _someone that magnificent could possibly think him beautiful.

Ronald's chest was slightly more defined than William's, thanks to his constant use of his heavy scythe, and his suntanned skin was an even color throughout as it blended perfectly from his chest to his firm, lean abdomen, leading William to guess that he either sunbathed, or just had a natural tanned color about him. He wore no belt, so his own trousers had slid down slightly more than William's, and he could see almost his entire right pelvic bone as it slanted down and out of sight beneath the waistband of the trousers. Slowly, as though in a trance, William brought up both his ungloved hands and traced Ronald's sides once more, feeling his member ache badly as he watched the muscles of Ronald's torso flex and shiver, and the warmth of the soft skin beneath his hands increased as Ronald let out a loud moan that peaked and cracked when William's fingers ran over his ribs and paused to rub gentle circles there.

William gasped as Ronald leaned down and stole his breath away with a passionate, nearly frantic kiss, their lips moving together rapidly as Ronald set a fast, lustful pace that he just barely managed to keep up with. William then felt those deft fingers working away at the buckle of his belt, and he flinched as Ronald got a little too excited and accidentally jostled his glasses, though Ronald didn't really seem to care, as William's hands were now stroking down his spine, making his back arch as he mewled softly into the kiss.

Ronald pulled away after a second, panting hard and heavy as he tugged William's belt open, staring hungrily at the bulge of fabric below. He paused, then, his entire frame shivering with need as he flicked his eyes back up at William's face, searching for confirmation that what he was doing was okay, and desperately hoping the answer would be "yes". He would still back off if asked, but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd be horribly disappointed; though, not angry. Never angry.

William had tensed up slightly as he realized just how far this was going, and was watching Ronald intensely, his mind whipping through his various options and trying to decide which one was right. Ronald smiled down at him, his cheeks flushed as he panted, and he leaned down and kissed William's cheek, bringing his hand up and hooking his glasses with one finger, pulling them off gently.

"Let's get these out of the way, hm?" He murmured, leaning out and setting them carefully on the bedside table, being careful to fold the handles in, before returning his attention back to William. He bent, and kissed him deeply once more, his hands trailing over his superior's arms as he relished the sweet taste of his lips, their tongues intertwining in an intricate, wondrous dance they that had both come to adore. After relishing William's movements for a long, sweet moment, he pulled away reluctantly, struggling to catch his breath as he gazed down at William, who somehow looked even more strikingly beautiful without his glasses. He wondered vaguely how he'd gotten so lucky as he slid a hand across William's shoulder and down his arm, teasing him lightly, and suppressing a shiver as William's own hand reached up to touch his face, almost shyly.

"You're still free to b-back out." Ronald stuttered as William gently rubbed the fingers of his free hand into his ribs in response, his cheek warming beneath William's hand as the brunette gently ran a thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. Ronald's tongue slid out to stroke softly across William's neck in return, eliciting a small moan from the elder as the piercing dragged sweetly along his skin yet again.

"No..." He breathed softly, and to Ronald's shock and delight, William's hands left their positions, and slowly slid down the blond's sides and crept beneath the hem of his pants, examining the skin there with a few slow, seductive strokes of his fingertips, causing Ronald to arch slightly into the touch. "Please... It aches..." He said softly, shifting with discomfort to try and get his need to stop chaffing against his pants.

Ronald's lips locked hungrily onto William's again, thanking him for the approval, and he unbuttoned his superior's trousers and tugged them down just enough to allow his hand access. William jerked and tensed nervously beneath Ronald as the blond's hand slowly trailed over his lower belly, freezing mid-kiss, and Ronald pulled away from him and trailed wet kisses up his down his chest and over his stomach soothingly, his body arching with the motion, and nearly making William's mouth water.

"Relax, I'll be gentle..." He whispered, his hand sliding down and gently rubbing the bulge just below the thin fabric of William's boxers, extracting a loud, heated moan from him. Ronald smiled and drug his piercing over a nipple once more, his hand finally nudging William's undergarments aside and gripping his neglected member. His mouth closed around the sensitive nub once again as he slowly began to drag his hand along William's arousal, feeling his own getting even more uncomfortably noticeable as William's soft, blissful little cry penetrated the air.

William clenched his teeth hard, trying to keep from shouting out loud at the feeling of that foreign touch coupled with that skilled, tight ring of fingers... the way he was kissing him now, that sweet taste, and that strangely addictive touch of the stud as his kiss forced William's jaw to lose its tension... the feeling of his breath against his neck as he pulled away to utter a small cry when William's fingers began tracing exotic patterns on his sides yet again, encouraging him as he continued to slide his hand along William's arousal, faster and firmer, pooling liquid heat in his loins...

It was driving him wild.

Ronald increased the tempo of his hand, wincing in pain as his own member began to ache sharply at the sight of William's face, which was painted into a beautiful picture of pure ecstasy. He slid his thumb over the sensitive head of William's need, then gently rubbed it into the slit there, reveling in the pleasure-pain of hearing William's moan crack with bliss, seeing him thrust upward against his hand, begging for more...

He couldn't take it anymore.

William opened his eyes when the delicious contact abruptly left him, and he laid there, chest heaving as he tried to put the current situation back together, feeling rather indignant that Ronald had stopped so suddenly; or that he'd stopped at all, for that matter. He heard what sounded like a button being popped open and fabric sliding over skin, and he wondered dimly what article of clothing could possibly be coming off now when he looked down and saw Ronald tossing his pants aside. Before he could get over his sudden shock, however, Ronald's sweet kisses fell upon his face and down his neck, distracting him from all else instantly as he slowly, tauntingly drew his tongue up the side of William's neck, making him arch and gasp in helpless pleasure.

"Do you want me to continue?" Ronald breathed huskily into his ear, not bothering to contain the lust in his voice anymore. His hands gripped William's hips, and he gently massaged the hollows there with his thumbs, earning a small buck and a gasp from William.

William wanted nothing more than for Ronald to finish what he had started by that point, so he placed a short row of kisses up Ronald's cheek, his hand sliding down and brushing ever-so-shyly over Ronald's own arousal, blushing faintly as he did so. It was dirty to do such a thing, but he just couldn't help himself anymore...

"Yes..." William breathed, and no sooner had the word left his mouth than he felt Ronald grip the waistband of his pants and tug both they and his undergarments off, leaving him completely exposed to the fire-warmed air. Needless to say, he was nothing short of startled when this happened, as he hadn't quite been expecting that. Before he could complain, however, he gasped in surprised pleasure when Ronald's own need brushed his, sending a jolt of electricity up his spine at the unexpected, yet incredibly pleasing contact.

Ronald wrapped a hand around both of their arousals and began to slowly pump, shuddering in delight at the friction it caused, and the way William's hips immediately bucked to meet his movements, a loud, hoarse cry escaping his lips. Fueled on by this, Ronald sped up his movements slightly with the next few pumps, and after a moment, both of them were shuddering and groaning in unison as their members slipped and slid against each other.

_"Nnn..." _William gasped, thrusting against Ronald's hand shamelessly, their sweat-soaked bodies sliding against each other, creating an exhilarating sensation as Ronald pressed closer, bestowing another smothering, glorious, frantic kiss upon him, thrusting in time with his own hand and making William moan deliriously into the kiss, as he'd never felt so good in his entire life.

"More..." He gasped when Ronald pulled away, vaguely wondering where the hell his self control had gone, and then deciding that he didn't fucking care when Ronald slid his hand along their members once more, expertly dragging another moan out of both of them as his thumb played over the heads of their arousals.

"Yes sir." Ronald purred, lowly, sexily, into his ear, and William's reply died on his lips as Ronald gently squeezed their members and made him buck slightly against his hand yet again, hoping that what was to come was even better than this.

He felt Ronald's hand leave, and his weight shift on the bed as he leaned over once more, and the sound of a drawer being opened registered in his mind. Slowly, reluctantly, he slid his eyes open again. He watched as Ronald closed a drawer, catching the faint smell of roses as Ronald turned and settled over him again, dipping so that their sweat-slicked bodies slid together amorously. He had a feeling he knew what Ronald had been in the drawer for, and he was suddenly very nervous once again, though, by this point, he trusted Ronald to be gentle, and was still willing to go through with it. He knew that with it being his first time, it was going to hurt a little, but if Ronald was able to make it as good as it was _now,_ he staunchly believed that it would be worth it.

Regardless, he still started when he felt the cool, oil-slicked finger against his entrance, and he immediately panicked and tried to pull away, having not had enough time to mentally prepare himself. A strangled gasp of both pleasant and unpleasant shock escaped his lips as Ronald placed an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, the tip of his tongue tracing a small circle on the porcelain flesh beneath him.

William was instantly and utterly distracted by the ball-shaped piercing as it began to dance an intricate dance across his neck, and Ronald sucked a little more forcefully than he had before, increasing William's pleasure tenfold. He then placed a gentle yet firm love-bite there, trapping a pocket of the smooth, pale skin, and sucked harder, marking William as his own while simultaneously drawing a slow, soothing circle around his entrance, relaxing the muscle there and listening with delight to the sweet music of William's gentle moans. He was careful to keep up his distracting ministrations to William's neck as he slipped a finger inside his tight entrance, earning a small gasp of shock and mild pain from William in the process as the startled older Shinigami somehow resisted the instinctive urge to jerk away again. Oh, that was a _hell _of a way to get dragged down from the high that Ronald was giving him... It certainly did send a mild jab of pain up his spine when it first went it, but as Ronald began to thrust gently, it merely felt strange and rather uncomfortable, but certainly not unbearable.

"Shhh... You're okay..." Ronald murmured in his ear, running the thumb of his other hand over one of William's hardened peaks as he nibbled gently along William's collarbone, satisfied with the kiss mark he had left behind on his neck, and debating whether or not he should leave another. William did relax slightly at these distracting ministrations, and he even arched against Ronald, and shuddered at the contact of their members, silently encouraging him to go on. After a few more moments of well-versed diversions, Ronald decided William had calmed enough, and slowly began to thrust his digit a little more forcefully, while being careful to try and keep his movements as painless as possible.

William's brow was furrowed with obvious discomfort at the now slightly painful intrusion, and Ronald watched him carefully, waiting to see if he would relax once more. After a minute of careful thrusting, William seemed to calm slightly as he slowly got used to the feeling, though he still didn't exactly look comfortable with the odd sensations it was causing. Slowly, Ronald slipped a second digit in, and he wasn't surprised when William really _did _clamp down this time, letting out a low hiss of pain as he did so.

"Relax, please relax..." Ronald whispered in his ear, and William jumped when Ronald gently gripped his earlobe between his teeth and tugged, making his muscles ripple with pleasure. "It won't hurt as badly if you relax. It's just like the massage, it'll get better if you calm down, I promise."

William shuddered with discomfort as Ronald gently began to thrust his fingers, sending a ripping pain up his spine as he did so. He shut his eyes and and bit the inside of his lip hard, trying not to make any noises of discomfort, and he was beginning to regret his decision of letting Ronald go on, just a little bit.

No matter how hard he tried, however, a small whimper of pain escaped him as Ronald began to scissor his fingers, stretching him as gently as he could, but knowing that he'd feel some pain no matter what he did, or how he did it. However, he knew he could help the process move along a little faster, and he leaned back and took William's slightly softened need in his hand once more, feeling it firm up again instantly at his touch. He slid his hand slowly up along his arousal and then back down again, gripping firmly and making sure that his fingers brushed over the head of his erection. It was an effective move, as William relaxed around his fingers, and he sped up both the tempo of his hand and of his fingers, earning a small moan of pleasure-pain from William, his brow furrowing as both the feelings combined and fought for dominance over his body.

He continued this for several seconds, and when William finally seemed to be feeling the handjob more than the invasion, as a small, pleased moan breached his lips, Ronald slipped a third finger in, and William's next cry was undoubtedly one of pure pain, his brief bliss forgotten.

That was it. The searing, ripping pain that Ronald was causing was beginning to outweigh all the pleasure William had felt thus far, and he, quite frankly, was wishing that he'd responded with a "no" to Ronald's last question. He had figured it might have hurt a little, but he had no idea that it would have been this bad, and he wanted out, _now._ Just as he was about to open his mouth and beg for Ronald to stop, however, the digits were removed, and the searing subsided to a dull ache immediately, leaving William with mixed feelings of both relief and apprehension.

"Do you want to continue?" Ronald asked him hoarsely, his voice almost shredded with lust that he couldn't possibly hope to contain, and William eyed him nervously, indecision wracking his body. On one hand, that had bloody well _hurt,_ much more than he had expected, and he really never wanted to feel anything like that again. On the other hand, however, he technically was no longer virgin, so maybe what was coming next would be the part where he actually felt the pleasure. Besides, he'd made it this far, there wasn't really a point in turning back now...

As he deliberated, he was watching Ronald, and he didn't miss the slight wince as Ronald's member gave a particularly painful throb, and he saw the brief, needy, almost desperate flash in his eyes. This settled it for him; even if Ronald was honest when he said that William could back out, and that he'd be fine with it, it would be horrible of him to drag the blond along this far, and then deny him what he so obviously wanted. For Ronald's sake, he'd grin and bear it, because the guilt of dragging Ronald along in such a way, even if the blond would have forgiven him entirely, far outweighed the risk of discomfort in William's mind. Ronald had given him so much tonight, and he'd made William incredibly happy. William wanted him to feel just a fraction of his joy, and this was the best way he knew how.

"Yes." William answered softly, still panting slightly with pain. Regardless, though, William thought he was going to die when he felt the oil-slicked head of Ronald's member pressing against his entrance, and he shut his eyes tightly as Ronald slowly slid in. A small cry of agony escaped his lips as his virgin walls were stretched horribly, achingly too far, despite Ronald's best efforts to be as gentle as he possibly could. He gripped Ronald's shoulders tightly, feeling the blond trembling against him as he slowly, agonizingly buried himself up to the hilt in William's hot, too-tight entrance. He wanted to throw everything to the wind and simply thrust right then, as he had finally ended up where he'd so desperately wanted to be, but he knew he couldn't, as it would break the little trust William had apparently built up, and probably make him abstain from sex for the rest of his life. Besides, William was clenching around him so tightly that he didn't think he'd be able to move all that quickly; not without being extremely rough, anyway, and that was _entirely _out of the question. He was never what he would have considered a "rough lover", anyway, and the very thought of the potential pain that could cause William apalled him. Afterall, he _was _a lover, not a fighter, and he preferred to go slower, and make sure his partner got all the attention necessary, and then some.

_"Nnn... _Just try to relax, Will. I know it hurts, but you've got to try." Ronald said hoarsely, unable to stop himself from bucking slightly against William's firm rear, as his body seemed to jerk compulsively at the feeling of William's breath against his neck, as the brunette had his head pressed against his shoulder, entire body rigid. "It'll be okay..."

"Just get it over with..." William hissed through gritted teeth, tears of pain in his eyes, his hands still gripping tightly at Ronald's shoulders. The way his member had softened slightly yet again, and the pained, reluctant expression on his face said that he meant it; he'd gone from unrestrained bliss, straight back to the tense, unsure look of an honest-to-the-Gods, frightened virgin. He was still uncomfortably tight around Ronald, though he was earnestly trying to loosen up, for both their sakes, but it was honestly right next to impossible for him to do so. The pain was incredible, and no matter how much he willed himself, he was finding it impossible to calm down.

Ronald, growing frustrated with himself as he saw William's obvious discomfort and discontent, obeyed him, being very, very careful to make his first move as gentle as possible. He grunted with the effort of the first motions as he thrust slowly into William, hardly even able to move, thanks to the extremely tight, almost _painful _clenching around his member.

William winced and squirmed with pain, feeling as though someone were ripping him in two, or something else equally painful, as he wasn't sure that he could describe the horrid sensation with just words. He grunted with discomfort as Ronald pulled back and pushed in again, his eyes watering so badly with the pain as the discomfort doubled, nearly making him cry out in agony, that he was sure some nuisance tear was about to slip out and run down his cheek. He shut his eyes tightly to defend against this, deciding that he'd just wait it out and let Ronald do as he wished, because he sure as _hell _couldn't see how he was supposed to get any pleasure out of this at all...

...That is, until Ronald changed his angle slightly, shifting his hips downward, and William let out a quiet scream of ecstasy as Ronald brushed his sweet spot, and a blinding, white-hot wave of pleasure instantly coursed throughout his entire body like fire, catching him completely off guard. Immediately, all of the tension in his body disappeared as his vision whited out for a second, and he heard Ronald's soft, pleased chuckle crack and turn into a small moan as the tension around him released, and it was no longer nearly painful to be buried in William, but instead amazingly, unbelievably _good._

"S-see? _Nuh..." _Ronald gasped, kissing wetly across William's jaw as he pulled out slightly, much more smoothly and easily this time, as William was much more relaxed, and now it was possible to move. Before William could respond, however, Ronald thrust forward again, and his reply simply melted into an incoherent groan of bliss; it didn't really matter, anyway, as he was pretty sure that no language in existence could convey the immense amount of pleasure he felt.

Ronald was trying to be as gentle as possible, because even though William was beginning to enjoy himself once again, his hardened member standing testament to this, he knew going too fast, too soon would ruin everything. However, with William beneath him, moaning quietly every time he thrust inside, his kiss-swollen lips and his tight heat capturing Ronald, and leaving his head spinning time and time again, he was finding it very hard indeed to keep it slow as he carefully increased the tempo of his thrusts, moving deeper every time he delved inside. Panting with exertion and the ripples of pleasure that coursed through his body like fire, he wrapped a hand around William's throbbing member, beginning to pump it in time with his movements, fully intending to make him sing to make up for the pain he had experienced.

The reaction from William was immediate as Ronald's hand began to move. His hips bucked with surprise and a small, sweet cry escaped his lips as he moved back down again, in a sympathetic downthrust against Ronald. Ronald, pleased to find that he was participating once more, bit down a small groan of bliss and sped up his movements just slightly, wishing that the moment would last forever. At the same time, he bent and began to gently nuzzle along William's neck, before bestowing another gentle nip there, which quickly turned into another possessive kiss-mark, distracting him from any pain the steady, now-rapid pace might cause.

William, however, knew no pain at all right then. If asked, he probably wouldn't have even known his own name. Instead, his mind had completely whited out from the feeling of Ronald possessing him; a feeling so foreign, and yet so deliciously, wonderfully _glorious _that he prayed it would never end. Some dim, distant voice in the back of his head told him that everything going on there, from Ronald's wet kisses on his face, to the smooth roll of that lean, supple body above him, to the shameless, guttural groans that were escaping him with each thrust, were somehow wrong. That they were lewd and dirty and vulgar and simply just improper for him to be taking part in, no matter how good they felt, and that he should stop immediately. However, the overwhelming majority of his mind was screaming with the massive waves of pleasure that pounded through every nerve of his body, a pleasure that dug into his mind and tore apart his facade, silencing the tiny, nagging voice instantly, and banishing every bit of loneliness he'd ever felt. Every little kiss, every stroke and brush of those talented, precious fingers, every gentle tap against the most sensitive part of his body... Ronald was literally ripping his stoic demeanor to pieces with nothing but the soft, loving brush of his flesh. He was grabbing William's ever-constant, angry, uptight forefront, and shredding it like cheap paper, with nothing more than velvet fingertips and a small metal stud. William was utterly helpless to his touches, unable to fend away the pleasure that was destroying his precious, perfect mask which he had spent centuries molding from thin air, unable to fight away that haunting beauty, who was stealing his control away, and replacing it, and everything else, with nothing short of pure, unbridled ecstacy.

And William couldn't get enough of it. In fact, he was pretty sure that he could _never_ get enough of it.

Despite Ronald's best efforts, his tempo increased once more, to a pace he hadn't really wanted to subject William to during first time, because of his tight, inexperienced body. However, the sight of William writhing and crying out beneath him, his entire body soaked in sweat as he pushed down against Ronald, burying him deeper with every thrust... It was simply too much, and Ronald's thrusts became deep, long, and with a little more power than he had intended. William, however, didn't seem to mind; on the contrary. He was now gripping Ronald's hips and pulling him closer as he pressed down with every thrust, arching slightly into him to give him better access, and making small, approving whines whenever Ronald's teeth gently nibbled down his neck and over his shoulder, placing a nip here, a kiss there. He kissed across Ronald's face and neck, encouraging him to go on, his eyes glazed with passion as Ronald returned his kisses tenfold, his sinfully, devilishly talented hands continuing to taunt and stroke William's body, to the point where it was almost torture.

William arched sharply against Ronald as what they were doing somehow began to feel twice as good, every wave of pleasure now spiking into a sharp stab of titillation, and making his cries peak and crack as he moaned wantonly, every last scrap of self-control completely gone. Ronald, sensing his impending release, and knowing that he wasn't far off himself, thrust deeply into William and ground against him, massaging his sweet spot with member, and making them both shout with untamed exhilaration.

_"W-Will..." _He gasped breathlessly, leaning into him hard as he continued moving vigorously, fueled on by the small cries and whimpers William was now constantly emitting. "Where...?"

"Inside." William breathed hoarsely, whining softly as Ronald thrust again, then drawing his tongue up the side of Ronald's neck, making the blond quiver and moan. Ronald, satisfied with this answer, began to thrust almost roughly, his self control vanishing just as William's had. William's cries, which had nearly been small shouts before, now peaked in volume and frequency, until William was honestly shouting as Ronald thrust and rubbed shamelessly against him, until William couldn't take it anymore.

_"R-ahhn..!"_ William screamed helplessly, not even able to speak his lover's name anymore as his back arched and his orgasm coated Ronald's hand, his body clamping tightly around Ronald, and instantly sending the blond over the edge. William's vision whited out immediately, and he saw stars as the most intense, incredible sensation he had ever experienced crashed over him, threatening to drown him in waves of sheer pleasure. Dimly, he could hear Ronald's cry of release above him, and as a molten hot warmth covered his sweet-spot, his own scream of release peaked and cracked, then fell away as the intense feelings became sharper, to the point of being overwhelming, for the briefest, most glorious second of his entire life.

He fell out of his arch and landed back against the sheets as the wondrous sensation slowly faded away, and he felt Ronald collapse on top of him in a boneless heap, his hot breath on his shoulder as he struggled to remember how to breathe. Slowly, sluggishly, William's brain was coming back online, and he sighed with contentment as the outside world gradually reconnected with his senses, and a sleepy, pleasant fog of satisfaction settled over him. Ronald leaned up and covered his face in kisses then, which William returned as best his exhausted body would allow, and he shuddered as he felt Ronald shift his hips and pull out, and then the feeling of a cloth gently brushing over his stomach, cleansing him, and making him shiver gently.

He felt Ronald's body lay over his own once more, and he wrapped his arm around him weakly, too tired and downright satiated to even open his eyes. Ronald was in a similar state, but he managed to lean up and kiss William's eyelids softly, his own sliding closed as he settled down on top of William once more, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and letting out a low, pleased sigh, happier than he'd been in ages.

A comfortable, mutual silence settled over the two of them, with nothing but the sound of the gently popping, smoldering embers in the fireplace breaking the silence as they quickly fell asleep in each other's arms, both content to stay there for eternity.

xxx

Extremely long lemon is extremely long. Seriously, took me forever to write/edit this.

I'd like to thank Adam Lambert for remixing the song Fever, because I was listening to it almost the entire time as I wrote this. It's so WillxRon that it's not even funny.

I'd also like to thank SoMuchLoveForKuroshitsuji, AKA JackzRagdoll13 at deviantART for making this fanart: .com/favourites/#/d34xxth Aptly entitled "Willy Dear and Knoxieboo", because it's cute as shit and even the title makes me smile.

Anyway, thanks for reading, guys. I don't think I'll be able to do the holiday special until tomorrow, but I'll definitely have one. In the meantime, SUCK ON THIS LEMON! 8D


	46. Confessions

Ah, so sorry for going so long without an update, dearies. ^_^;; I was working on the Christmas special. It's called "A Christmas He'll Never Forget" if any of you want to hunt it down.

Thanks for the reviews and the support. :3 If anyone's curious, William and Ronald had their roles switched because the entire idea was to have Ronald take away William's control and his massive weight of responsibility for a short time, giving him the break he so desperately needs. They weren't switched without reason. Still, why put the couples in the same positions over and over? It's nice to change things around from time to time, lest things get repetitive. XD

Anyway, don't worry; William will NOT be turning into a constantly blushing uke anytime soon. That's more or less reserved for Ronald, and Grell can look forward to many smacks over the head in the future.

xxx

The crutch had long since been set aside, and it leaned against Grell's blood-colored door, forgotten and lonely, though it was now serving the purpose of barring the entrance against intrusion. A few feet away, perched atop the crimson, satin sheets of the large canopy bed, the current owner of the crutch and his closest companion were entwined around each other, their lips moving together in a passionate, loving dance, their fingertips roving each other's bodies slowly, conspicuously, each wishing to remove the fabric that separated the rapidly heating flesh of the other.

The crimson red love seats and small, matching couch to the left of the bed cast shadows across the entire room as the low-burning fire danced in the small, cobbled fireplace, continuously heating the room, from the plush red carpet below, to the rich brown walls around, which hid them from the world. In the dim light, the larger of the two pulled his companion closer, his long nails gently trailing down his neck as he continued to explore his hot, willing mouth with his own.

Grell, his slinky dress draping his form beautifully, his blood-red hair fanning around him and accentuating the black garters on his legs and the crimson gloves on his hands, had his arms twined around Undertaker's neck, kissing him honestly yet gingerly, as the fresh stitches in Undertaker's face were still rather sore. His heels had been discarded long ago, and lay next to the long black boots on the floor, which Undertaker had kicked off at the beginning of their necking session. Undertaker was staunchly trying to ignore any discomfort he felt, and had wrapped his arms tightly around Grell, pulling him as close as his wounded body and the laws of physics would allow as their tongues gently brushed and danced around one another. One long nail slipped beneath the hem of the dress and gently drew up Grell's thigh, trailing lightly and making the redhead shiver and cling tighter to him. Undertaker, despite his best efforts, gave a small grunt of pain and loosened his grip the faintest amount as a stabbing ache raced through his face. Grell pulled away immediately at the noise, loosening his grip immensely, and Undertaker drew in a sharp breath as the motion jostled him slightly, making the ache switch its attention to his side.

"Ahhh... Careful, m'lady." He gasped, wincing and placing a hand at his side, which gave a painful throb in response to his own touch. How he _hated _his predicament, as it kept him from getting as close to Grell as he wanted... "I'm not quite back on my feet just yet."

"Sorry!" Grell cried, recoiling back further and rapidly drawing his hands from Undertaker's neck, as though he'd been burned by the contact. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine, it's fine." Undertaker reassured quickly, reaching out and taking Grell's hands in his own, gently squeezing them as his brilliant, emerald eyes met Grell's, conveying the fact that the redhead was forgiven without question. "You didn't mean it." He murmured, leaning in to kiss Grell's cheek as his thumb began to gently stroke the back of Grell's hand, trying to soothe the redhead. "I know you well enough to keep from getting angry for something as small as that, Grell. I'm not upset, trust me..."

Grell, unable to stare into those magnificent depths because of the massive tidal wave of guilt that crashed over him, averted his eyes and bit his lip sharply, wondering how Undertaker could forgive him so easily. He swallowed the knot of tears that had suddenly formed in his throat, threatening to choke him, and leaned away from Undertaker, trying to tug his hands away, trying to get as far away as possible, lest he somehow hurt his love again. Undertaker, realizing what was wrong, held on stubbornly, his voice quiet, yet stern when he spoke again.

"I know what you're going to say, Grell. Don't you _dare." _He said firmly, removing one hand from where it was grasping Grell's, and wrapping his arm around the redhead instead, gently drawing him closer. "It's not true in the slightest, and I won't have you putting yourself down for it."

"It _is _true," Grell whimpered softly, blinking back tears as he leaned his head against Undertaker's chest, knowing there was no use fighting, and not wishing to, in case it disturbed Undertaker's wounds. "You're hurt because of me. I was being stupid and I nearly got you killed..."

It was true, too; if he had just watched his back, had finished off the stupid demon when he had the chance, Undertaker wouldn't be so sore. He wouldn't be sporting two new scars and still worrying over whether or not the stitches would rip. He wouldn't have been in constant agony as he fought for his life. It was all Grell's fault, and he wished Undertaker would be furious with him, that he'd yell and beat and abuse and ridicule him to make things even. It tore him apart and made him a hundred times as guilty to see Undertaker forgiving him so easily, that loving warmth still present in his eyes every time he looked at Grell, as though he hadn't nearly gotten him killed. It just wasn't _right..._

"Grell," Undertaker cut in softly, his other hand releasing Grell's to gently cup his chin and tilt his head back, his touch gentle and coaxing. "Look at me, Grell. Please."

Grell, unable to resist the calm yet persuasive voice above him, allowed Undertaker to tilt his head back without resistance, choosing instead to meekly submit to the touch. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his eyes to meet Undertaker's, his hands fisting nervously in his lap as he waited.

Undertaker's eyes were soft, warm, and Grell felt himself melting under the steady, gorgeous gaze, transfixed by the way Undertaker's eyes glimmered joyously; something that seemed to happen every time Grell looked at him, as though he relished Grell's attention. Slowly, so gentle that Grell barely felt it, Undertaker slid his thumb over his jaw and placed it against his lips, keeping him silent in the kindest, softest way possible.

"What I did," He murmured gently, pausing only to place a small, loving kiss on Grell's forehead. "Was _my _choice. No one forced me into it. Not you, not Ronald, not William... No one. If I didn't care about you, I could have easily just let him get rid of you, and then taken him out myself, and saved myself the trouble. But, I didn't do that, now did I?"

Slowly, after a moment of hesitation, Grell shook his head, his eyes wide and rather vulnerable as he studied Undertaker, as though he was still expecting to get yelled at. Undertaker smiled gently, tightening his grip slightly around Grell's shoulders and drawing him closer.

"I did what I did because I love you, Grell, more than you know. I'd do it again, and again, and again, without any hesitation. I'm just that crazy for you, and, as selfish as it may seem, I'd rather put the Realms in danger by letting myself die, than let some worthless demon tear you down, without even the slightest shred of respect that you deserve. That was _my _choice to make, and that's why I made that decision; because I love you, okay? Now, no tears, no whining, nothing, because I'm not letting you blame yourself for the actions of a lovestruck fool like me, understood? My choice, my actions, not yours, so you don't have a right to beat yourself up over it."

Grell nodded solemnly, unable to find words as he learned into Undertaker's embrace and wrapped his arms around his neck once again, tears of an entirely different emotion beading in his eyes. He laid his head against Undertaker's shoulder, nuzzling lovingly against the soft, dark cloth of his robe, and closing his eyes as he tried to obey Undertaker's command of not shedding tears.

"I love you too." Grell whispered softly, his voice choked and threatening to crack with every word. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it." Undertaker chuckled softly, kissing the top of Grell's head and running his fingers through his hair. "It's the truth, and I don't regret a thing."

Grell pulled back slightly, and Undertaker smiled as he found Grell's lips on his own once more. He always relished the feeling of the silken movements against his own, the way Grell parted his lips so needfully, begging to be explored, the sweet taste of his kiss as Undertaker took up his offer without hesitation, time and time again...

The fingers of his free hand slowly traced up Grell's thigh once more, slowly pushing up the hem of his dress, and relishing the feel of the hot skin beneath his fingers as his other hand continued to toy with Grell's silken tresses. He paused his movement upward, tracing gentle swirls on Grell's upper thigh, causing the smaller Shinigami to shiver gently against him, his breath hitching slightly. Grell pulled away mid-kiss and, still facing Undertaker, seated himself in his lap, his legs on the outside of either of Undertaker's thighs. Running his fingers through the silver, silky hair of his lover as he swooped in to continue the kiss, Grell suddenly realized just how much he'd _missed _the elder's embrace, and he suddenly craved him twice as much. He wanted Undertaker's hands all over his body, his hot breath on his neck as he whispered his name, his sweet kisses trailing up his chest before claiming his lips and pillaging his mouth, the thrust and roll of his hips as he claimed him for his own...

Undertaker sensed this, as he laid his hands on Grell's shoulders, and then slowly slid them down Grell's sides, causing the younger Shinigami to arch his back slightly. A tiny gasp escaped him as Undertaker's hands slid under the hem of his dress once more, slowly beginning to slid it up his lithe, feminine body. Grell, in response, began tugging impatiently at the heavy robe around Undertaker's shoulders, intent on satisfying his craving for the feel of the older man against him. Undertaker obediently let go of Grell and leaned back, taking off his tophat and then, with Grell's eager assistance, tugging off the robe and tossing them to the floor carelessly. He paused to allow Grell to readjust himself once more, then leaned up and kissed along Grell's jaw, before sitting back and waiting for Grell to come to him. Grell, however, paused to observe him, his eyes glinting with both lust and curiosity.

Beneath, his skin was bare, as the second coat he normally wore had never been put on, as it was too tight and agitated the sore wounds on Undertaker's back and side. His chest was as lean and strong as Grell remembered, and his left side, previously pristine, was now marred with the new wound. It was roughly four inches above the diagonally slanting scar of his left hip, and perhaps three inches below the large scar that snaked from just below the inner-elbow of his right arm to his left shoulder. Grell frowned as he studied it, shuddering to think of what would have happened if the wound had been any deeper, or had split open old stitches; he had a feeling it wouldn't have been pretty.

Undertaker smirked as he watched Grell study them, and whereas he had refused to tell Grell their origins before, he now pointed them out as he spoke, now that the cat was well out of the bag and there was no point in keeping their secrets any longer.

"This one," He said, pointing to the single slash above the elbow of his left arm "Was a sideswipe, and I'll say that I got lucky, as the same scythe that did it killed the guy behind me. I didn't really know him, but it was a terrible way to go, regardless. This one," He continued, tapping his hip. "Was when I learned the hard way that a demon can still jump up and try to gut you, even when it's ripped in half. These," He said, lining his right arm up with his side, matching up the scar below his elbow and the massive scar across his chest perfectly, "Were when I nearly died the first time, because they really _did _almost gut me. I was lucky enough to be standing just a little bit too far back, though, and I just lost a lot of blood, instead of my insides. This, however, is when I got a bit too _close,_ and became very familiar with the inner workings of my face," He said, gingerly running one finger over the scar in his face, wincing slightly at the pain it caused his fresh stitches. "And then lost a finger in the process, because I decided that my eye was more important." He said, wiggling the scarred pinkie for emphasis. "And, last but not least, this is the one that nearly did me in the second time, and that asshole Lucifer was the one who did it." He said, tracing a finger over his stitched throat absently, his eyes rather distant as he recalled just how, and when, he'd acquired that particular scar.

"Wow..." Grell mumbled softly, sitting back to take in the full extent of the damage, cringing inwardly at how painful it all must have been, not to mention the emotional turmoil he would have been in at the time. "Wow, that's a lot..."

Undertaker laughed quietly then, and Grell looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. Undertaker smiled down at him in response, chucking him under the chin and pecking his lips affectionately.

"Yes, well, it's all in the past, and I plan on keeping it there. I learned to live with them ages ago." He said simply, wrapping his arms around Grell once more, and reeling him in close again. "Right now, I'd much rather concentrate on a certain lovely lady in front of me. Where were we...? Ah, yes." He said, smirking and leaning in to claim Grell's lips again, receiving absolutely no complaint from the redhead, who instantly fell in step with the kiss.

Grell felt the sensual slide of lace over his hips once more, and he moaned softly into the kiss when he felt the gentle scrape of Undertaker's nails against his sides, sending a burst of fire up his spine. He was rapidly becoming aroused by all the small, seductive touches, and he let his arms creep around Undertaker's neck once more, his fingers gently rubbing into the scarred flesh of his shoulders and making the gray-haired Shinigami shiver. He could feel his loins heating up, and there was an increasingly obvious lump in Undertaker's trousers as Grell rubbed his fingers into his neck, and then back down to his shoulders. Slowly, sensually, Grell allowed his hand to slip from Undertaker's shoulder and trail slowly, teasingly down his torso, being careful to avoid his sore side, before gently rubbing against the awakening length below the fabric of his pants. To Grell's pleasure, Undertaker drew in a sharp breath, and Grell felt the area beneath his fingertips grow twice as firm. Smirking, he continued to rub gently, his other hand replacing itself on Undertaker's thigh and beginning to trace small, intricate patterns there, teasing him more and more until a minuscule, nearly inaudible moan left Undertaker's lips.

Grell was becoming quite aroused himself, and he suddenly took the wrist of Undertaker's right hand, which had halted its ministrations when Grell had begun his own, and slowly dragged it down until it rested against his hip. Undertaker, knowing what Grell wanted, slid his other hand down as well and hooked his thumbs into the silk panties there and tugged them down, earning a small, excited series of pants from Grell as he slowly slid them down the younger's legs, trailing carefully, so as not to disturb the black nylon garters that were still there. Grell shifted himself and lifted away just long enough to finally toss aside the garment, then leaned in again eagerly, his full, sensual lips capturing Undertaker's thinner, firmer ones and beginning to move, a small, needy moan escaping Grell as he savored the taste of his lover. Undertaker gripped his hips and pulled him closer, and Grell moaned loudly when his now exposed arousal brushed against the taunt fabric covering Undertaker's own, and he knew that they wanted each other utterly.

"Nnn... Undertaker..." He whined softly into the kiss, pulling away with a breathless gasp and turning his attention to his lap, beginning to fiddle with his lover's belt. Undertaker, panting raggedly, sat back and readjusted himself, allowing Grell to remove his belt and unzip his pants with one fluid motion. Grell, not skipping a beat, tugged both his pants and his undergarments off, barely allowing Undertaker to kick them off before he took his place in his lap once again, kissing him as passionately as his sore face would allow. He moaned as he felt their naked arousals rub together, and then gave a loud, pleased cry of surprise when Undertaker grasped his hips and pulled him down, grinding against him and intensifying their pleasure tenfold.

Grell moaned helplessly as Undertaker continued to rub and grind against him as quickly as his aching body would allow, and his moan peaked in a high, needy cry as he felt Undertaker's fingers pressing insistently at his entrance. He spread his legs accommodatingly, and then let out a low gasp of pleasure as Undertaker slipped one digit in, his long nail creating the pleasure-pain that Grell had missed so much as it began to thrust inside of him, slowly building up a steady rhythm. Grell kissed him again in response, keeping careful to keep the kiss gentle as Undertaker's tongue fought his own for dominance in a dance that made his member throb with need.

He groaned into the kiss and arched against Undertaker's hand when a second digit joined the first and began to scissor a tad vigorously, making his legs weak as his body spasmed with pleasure. Undertaker, pleased with his reactions, pulled away from the kiss, smirking as Grell whined softly in protest, and began nibbling down his neck, making his whine halt and his body quiver. He added a third finger, pressing in deeply, powerfully, with each thrust of his digits and nearly making Grell shout at the feeling of his nails biting into his walls. Most would have found the sensation unbearable, but dammit, it turned Grell on, and by that point, he wanted to do nothing more than ride Undertaker like an unbroken horse until the break of dawn, even though he knew that with his wounds, it would be impossible.

Grell whined in frustration when the digits were removed, and he quickly readjusted himself when he felt the head of Undertaker's arousal pressing against him instead, ragged, excited pants escaping him as he thought of what was to come. As Undertaker slowly pushed in, Grell let his hips fall, and he let out a short, sharp shout as he took Undertaker's entire member in, in one fast, fluid movement. Undertaker paused, not quite sure whether the cry was of pleasure or pain until Grell began to grind against him, starting a slow, smooth pace that made them both moan with immediate pleasure.

Undertaker's hands slid up from Grell's hips to tug down the straps of Grell's dress, and he slid the slinky piece of clothing down easily, exposing Grell's hot, pleasure-flushed skin and his hardened, enticing nipples as he let the top of the dress rest around Grell's waist. Undertaker slowly glided his hands back down to Grell's hips, gripping them and aiding the redhead's thrusts by providing leverage as he leaned forward and seized one taunt peak between his teeth, making Grell shudder and arch against him, his pace beginning to pick up with Undertaker's aid. Undertaker rolled the sensitive nub between his teeth and flicked his tongue over it repeatedly, and he felt Grell's gloved hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer and encouraging every last touch while, somehow, despite his lust-filled haze, being mindful of the fresh wound on Undertaker's face. Undertaker, pleasure jolting his body every time Grell moved down against him, began to gently thrust upward in time with him, extracting a small cry and a gentle, pleasant writhing motion from his lover every time he forced Grell to go down farther on his shaft. Their sweat-slicked bodies slid together deliciously, their eyes glazed with desire as their fingers rushed to trace every curve, every dip and roll and every muscle of their partner's being. Constant, heady mewls from Grell broke the silence, the sound mingling perfectly with the occasional, deeper groans from Undertaker as he continued to meet his lover's motions, knowing all-too-well how much they'd missed each other.

"Ohhhh... Yes..." Grell moaned wantonly as Undertaker sucked greedily at his abused peak, before releasing his hold and turning his attention to its twin, beginning his ministrations once more. In response, Grell dipped particularly low and ground against him vigorously, making Undertaker moan around his sensitive nub and causing Grell to tremble with bliss, short, whimpering gasps escaping him as he continued to grind against him, not able to get enough of the sensation.

"You love this." Undertaker breathed huskily, releasing his nub and trailing kisses up his thin, feminine chest, before dipping his head and drawing his tongue up the same trail, making Grell quiver. He paused to nip liberally along one clavicle, earning a small, heady series of gasps from Grell. Grell was now riding him at a fast, constant pace, his hands on either side of Undertaker's lap, steadying him while deflecting most of the force of the motions, making sure that his rapid movements didn't cause Undertaker harm. Undertaker removed one hand from Grell's hip, continuing to support him by cupping his firm, well-rounded ass with one hand as his other hand fisted in Grell's hair, pulling his head back and allowing Undertaker to nip and suck roughly at his neck. Grell's sweet, high-pitched whine was all the reward he needed as he began to leave a series of small, red-purple kiss marks on his neck, the tiny bruises marking Grell as his own while making the redhead squirm with ectasy.

"Yeeees..." He whined, one hand reaching up and tugging at Undertaker's hair to fuel him on, his efforts being rewarded with Undertaker thrusting upwards as he pulled Grell down by his hair. "Oh Gods yes I do-!"

His cry reached a peak and cracked as Undertaker moved into him more forcefully, ignoring the stitches of stabbing pain that were now running up his back and side, and tapped his prostate with such force that he nearly lost himself at that very moment. Arching his back as Undertaker took a swollen peak in his mouth once more, Grell shouted softly as Undertaker pulled out and then thrust in again, threatening to drive him insane with pleasure. Even when wounded, he was simply too talented for his own good...

"Bite me." Undertaker hissed into Grell's ear, releasing Grell's hair and clutching him close as he continued to thrust into him, stabbing pain mingling with the bolts of pleasure that shot throughout his body. Grell hesitated, then gasped and writhed as Undertaker took his neglected need in his hand and began to pump him roughly, his voice a commanding growl, his eyes glinting with his lusty, needy demand. "Do it."

Grell obeyed, leaning forward and sinking his teeth into Undertaker's uninjured shoulder, just enough to break the skin. Lapping the coppery blood that immediately flowed forth, he delighted in the way the silver-haired Shinigami trembled and moaned beneath him, the last bit of pain all he needed to lose himself. Undertaker reached his climax then, his nails raking down the exposed area of Grell's back, and he heard Grell cry out next to his ear. His nails dug into Undertaker's shoulders as the liquid heat of his orgasm covered Undertaker's hand, his hips bucking mindlessly against his lover's touch. Moaning loudly and completely lost in each other as they climaxed together, they each clung tightly to their partner, riding out their orgasms perfectly and leaving themselves completely, utterly spent.

After a moment of leaning against each other, the silence broken only by their heavy, gasping pants, Undertaker shimmied his hips, making Grell whine gently as he finally pulled out. Undertaker kissed his cheeks softly, then his lips, slowly at first, and then building up until both their tastes and tongues were mingling together once more, no longer in a furious embrace so much as a loving caress as deep satisfaction replaced suppressed lust. Undertaker hugged Grell close and laid down on his uninjured side, cradling Grell's head against the crook of his neck, his brilliant emerald eyes sliding closed with content. Grell sighed happily and snuggled against him, feeling sleepy and very pleased as he let his eyes slide closed, feeling nothing but the gentle rise and fall of Undertaker's breathing, and the loving grip of his embrace.

"Love you..." He murmured sleepily, a smile crossing his face as he felt Undertaker kiss the top of his head, his hand gently stroking the long crimson tresses

"I know." Undertaker whispered back, nuzzling into his sweet-smelling, crimson locks, wishing the moment would last forever. "Love you, too."

They welcomed the peaceful, cozy silence that followed, sharing the heat of their bodies as they slowly drifted off to sleep, oblivious to everything but the touch of the other.


	47. He's An Idiot

Sorry for being gone for so long, guys. I was in a place with no internet connection for three days. It was torture, lol.

In compensation, though, I hope to get two chapters up today. That makes up for it. Right? Right...?

*hides*

xxx

It was all very soothing, and enjoyable.

The soft morning light, so very contrasting to the deep darkness broken only by the fire of the night before... the comforting feeling of being wrapped in the pleasantly warm, soft, cotton sheets... the gentle rise-and-fall feeling of the body behind him breathing...

Wait...

William slowly slit his eyes open, blinking sleepily a few times as he reluctantly woke up from the deepest, most restful sleep he'd ever experienced. He simply laid motionless for a long moment, debating whether or not he should go back to sleep, so languidly content that he barely moved a single muscle. After a moment of contemplation, his hazy mind decided that sleep was much more preferable than departing the wonderfully cozy sheets, and he was just letting his eyes slide closed again when he realized that something was off.

He opened his eyes once more, quicker this time, and began staring at the blue sheets in front of his face as though they were beyond any means of possible comprehension. In fact, for William's sleep-addled brain, they were; his sheets were jet-black and ten times slicker, and usually had a relatively cool feel to them, as they were made of silk. They were nothing like the cloud-soft, baby blue cotton wrapping around his entire body.

His entire _bare naked_ body.

His heart rate quickened and his breath stopped as the night before came slamming back into him, and he realized just where he was, and who was breathing ever-so-softly against his shoulder blade. As he felt the bed shift, he knew what was going to happen before it did, but he still started when Ronald's voice sounded in his ear.

"Good morning." Ronald's friendly, quiet voice crooned from above. "Sleep well, I hope?" He paused, then with a note of amusement in his voice, added teasingly "You're a really quiet sleeper, Will, I was worried about you for a second there."

Slowly, almost comically, William raised his head and looked over his shoulder at the blond, who had his head propped up on one hand, and was smiling lazily back down at him. As William watched, Ronald raised his free hand and began drawing small, affectionate circles on his upper arm, making the older Shinigami shiver gently. Ronald chuckled softly to himself, and William felt both a note of apprehension and a weird, stirring satisfaction at the sound.

"...So, I suppose I wasn't dreaming?" William asked dryly, his eyebrow quirking calmly, as though he hadn't just woken up buck naked in his employee's bed. Ronald laughed again, gently, and William felt him shift his position slightly, his toned, lithe chest gently brushing against William's bare back. William's heart skipped a beat at this, and he grew twice as nervous, though he kept his face calm; what was going to happen next, and just how would the two of them take the outcome?

"It's a bit of a stretch for both of us to have a dream that vivid, especially at the same time." Ronald said teasingly, and William's eyes widened slightly when Ronald's lips gently brushed his forehead. "It was certainly a... _pleasant _'dream', though. I hope you'll agree."

William felt his cheeks warm slightly, and he, to his horror, found himself tongue-tied and without an answer. Frustrated with himself and wishing that Ronald's eyes would leave him, he turned away from the blond and laid his head back on the pillow, trying to hide the tiny, nearly unnoticeable blush that colored his face. He couldn't believe that everything had _actually _happened, and he kept running the events of the night before through his mind, trying to fathom just how he'd ended up lying next to Ronald with his virginity on permanent leave. How in the _Realms...?_

"Hey..." Ronald's voice, still gentle, but with concern replacing the note of humor as his playful teasing turned into serious, worried intrigue. William blinked when Ronald's fingers gently slid under his jaw and tilted his head to face the blond once more, the touch firm, but not forceful, as Ronald was coaxing him into contact yet again. How was he able to do that...?

Ronald's eyes were soft, his lips turned down in a slight, perplexed frown as he tried to read William's sudden change, wondering if his superior was regretting the night before. William blinked again, mildly surprising himself as he managed to meet Ronald's gaze with only a slight pang of hesitation.

"You okay?" Ronald asked softly, and William's heart sped again when Ronald's thumb gently brushed over his lips in a gentle, loving gesture. "I mean, you're fine with... _us,_ right? You don't mind if I hang around?"

Ronald blinked in surprise when William's hand brushed his own away, and William's voice, cold, dry, and hard, with a condescending note, seemed to stab into his good mood and pop it like a balloon. It was just what he had feared William would say, and he felt his heart clench at William's next words.

"You, Knox, are an idiot." William scoffed, and Ronald's face fell immediately, utter hurt crossing every feature of his body and instantly quenching the happy gleam in his eyes. He quickly slid away from William, breaking all contact with him as he prepared to be belittled further, possibly even struck for his actions. He didn't want that; he had worked so _hard _to earn William's trust and praise up to this point, and he dreaded to think that he was about to lose it all in one fell swoop.

"Will, I-" He sputtered, the hurt twice as evident in his voice as it was his face, his hands raising in a half-apologetic, half-submissive gesture. "I'm sorry, I-"

He jumped when William's hand caught his wrist and pulled him back, and he felt William's lips on his own in a placating, and, what he was sure, even in that fleeting moment, was an apologetic kiss. Ronald felt his face flush red as his eyes flew wide with surprise, and he stared at William speechlessly when the dark-haired Shinigami pulled away, departing just as quickly as he'd come forward. His wrist was released then, and William's fingers intertwined with his own instead, making his heart stutter.

"Knox," William continued, his voice, his eyes, everything much softer as his free hand crept up and lovingly brushed over Ronald's flushed cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair back. All of this startled Ronald, who was nothing less than confused by this point, but nothing startled him nearly as much as the small, teasing smile on William's lips; an incredibly rare, gentle expression that he himself had never seen before. "You're an idiot, if you honestly thought I'd let you do something like that without wanting you to stay. That was a _very _stupid question."

Ronald stared at him as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened, and William's smile remained in place, as stubborn in its position as its owner was in the office. After a moment of piecing the moment back together, Ronald's own smile matched William's, and he dipped to return William's kiss, all of his fear swept away by William's confirmation; his confirmation that yes, yes he _did _want to have more than an employee-to-employer relationship.

In fact, he wanted much, much more.

William's lips parted when the piercing brushed against them, and he closed his eyes indulgently as they explored each other's mouths, his body shifting to accommodate Ronald as the blond's firm, toned body laid over his once again. His hand trailed slowly up the blond's back as Ronald's lips continued to move at a slow, sensual pace against his own, quickly putting him in the mood for something more than a little morning-after teasing.

After a moment, Ronald pulled away for air, giggling softly as William's trailing fingers dipped to the side and brushed over his sensitive ribs, gently tickling them. In truth, that wasn't the only thing making laughter pass his lips; seeing that small, loving smile on William's face had let him know that William had found happiness again, even if it only showed in that small, passing gesture, which was sure to be hidden once again when the cold mask was put back into place. Still, knowing that William was happy at all, even if it was hidden behind his stoic demeanor, made his heart soar, and caused joy to bubble out from his very core in the form of laughter. William was happy, and even if he wouldn't have admitted it aloud, seeing it for himself was good enough for Ronald, and it overjoyed him beyond belief. William was happy, and therefore, Ronald was happy as well; somehow even happier than he thought he'd be.

"That was mean." Ronald said, though the tone of his voice showed only relief and joy, not anger at William's teasing. "For a second there, I thought you were going to kick me out of my own room."

"I _do _have that authority." William said airily, chucking Ronald under the chin and kissing the corner of his mouth to further reassure him, skillfully hiding the smirk that tugged at his mouth when Ronald's cheeks took on a rosy tint. "Though, then I'd have to explain why I'm in here, and just why I don't have any clothes on, and that's just not worth the trouble."

Ronald laughed softly, and William jumped when the blond slowly ran his tongue up the length of his neck. He was now seriously wanting to get a better look at the blond's body, and the morning light and some certain... _activities _would have given him the perfect opportunity.

"Are you seriously comfortable enough to actually be making jokes? I'm flattered." Ronald said, taking William's chin between his fingers and pecking his lips, a smile on his own. William returned the small kiss, and his arms wrapped around the blond and gently pulled him closer as their lips met a third time and began to move with more purpose. Their tongues sliding sensually against each other and putting them both in the same mood, William let his hands creep down beneath the sheets to stroke the lean, delightful body that so clearly wanted to claim him again. Needless to say, after the night before, he didn't have any complaints about _that..._

Ronald, therefore, was extremely startled when William's entire body tensed, and he pulled away from the kiss abruptly and looked sharply toward the bedroom door, his eyes narrowing with unease. Ronald was twice as shocked when William released him and sat up slightly, his shoulders rigid with nerves as he nearly glared at the door, as though the entire Library was about to walk through and see them.

"Someone's at the door." He gritted tersely, and Ronald's head jerked toward the bedroom door when the faint, faraway sound of the main door being knocked on permeated the room. He slowly looked back down at William, his eyes huge and, frankly, in awe as he tried to process William's almost disturbingly accurate intuition.

"How did you do that?" He asked in a hushed voice, frozen in place as he stared at William as though he were some extraordinary mythical creature. William rolled his eyes and, gently but sternly, pushed him off to bring him back to attention, his voice exasperated, though with a tiny, fond note that Ronald almost missed.

"Horrid eyes and very sharp hearing as a result. Sutcliff is the same, but only when I'm not speaking to him, as that's when he appears to become half-blind _and _deaf. Now go answer the door before you start looking suspicious, and remember, _I'm not here."_

"Oh... right!" Ronald started, and William couldn't help but stare when he quickly sat up and bent to gather his clothes, which were scattered on the floor around the bed. Despite the fact that someone who might find them out was knocking at the door at that very instant, he still felt a bit of a stir as he gazed at that hauntingly beautiful body arching down before him, with the lean, graceful back leading down to that firm, almost femininely well-rounded rear...

He thought it a great shame when Ronald pulled on both his undergarments and his pants with a sort speed and ease that came only to those who slept nude and dressed fast on a routine basis. Ronald snatched his shirt and slid his arms into the sleeves, bending to kiss William's cheek and jolt him out of his staring as he began to fiddle with the buttons.

"I won't let them in, just get dressed and let me handle it." He said quickly, but with such reassurance that William, despite his usual skepticism, trusted him instantly. Before he could reply, however, Ronald had crossed the room and exited through the bedroom door, shouting a brisk but pleasant "Coming!" as he went, being sure to close the door behind him to give William privacy as well as ease of mind.

William sat up and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand as soon as the door closed, and then bent to collect his own clothes, wincing as a mild pain radiated up his back. He found most of his garments without too much trouble, but after sliding into his pants and undergarments, then buttoning his shirt, vest, and jacket and _still _not finding either his tie or one of his gloves, he was forced to drop to the floor to look for them. He found the tie under the bed after another brief moment of searching, and he sighed in irritation as he draped it around his shoulders and began another search for his glove, without bothering to tie it, as he knew he might have to cut and run at any moment.

He found his glove a little bit farther under the bed, and it was just far enough away that he had to lay on his stomach and reach out to grasp it, and he thanked the Gods that Ronald's floor was relatively clean as he stood and slipped it on. His jacket appeared to be free of dust or lint, but he brushed it down anyway, more out of habit than anything else.

William sat on the bed (with a tad bit of difficulty; _dammit _he was sore) and began to tie his tie with rapid, precise movements. Inwardly, he was wishing he had a mirror, even though a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind said that, with all the practice he had with ties, he could tie it perfectly while he was blindfolded and using nothing but his elbows. Still, old habits die hard, and he fidgeted with his tie a bit more than usual as he obsessively checked to make sure it was straight several more times than was necessary.

It was while he was fighting with his tie that he finally recalled the exact reason why he had come into Ronald's room the night before, and he immediately looked over his shoulder at the twin ocean-colored chairs, the rich brown coffee table, and the forgotten fireplace, which had long since gone cold, the fire having died in the early hours of the morning. His bloodied suit was still draped over one of the chairs, where it had been the night before, and he immediately stood, momentarily forgetting how sore his leg had been before, and remembering too late that he should check it first.

To his pleasure, however, his legs were equally strong and nimble, and he felt no pain as he began to head toward the chairs, his heartbeat speeding as he approached. Though the consequences of coming into Ronald's room the night before had arguably made it the best night of his entire life, he still desperately needed what he came here for in the first place, and he was going to get really worried if he didn't find it.

Therefore, when he reached his jacket, rifled through the pockets, and came up with nothing but the ruined pair of gloves and the torn tie he'd been wearing at the time of the battle, he found himself tempted to swear in frustration. Though his jacket, vest, shirt, tie, and gloves were all there, the key was absent, and he was completely at a loss when it came to where to look next. He grit his teeth and readjusted his glasses absently, his mind whirring with sudden panic as his good mood evaporated like fog. Where, where, _where...?_

He sighed with irritation and scooped up his soiled clothes as he continued to search his mind for a new idea. Turning to sit on the bed once more so he could wait for Ronald to return, he realized then that he had to somehow sneak out and get to his own room without anyone else in the Wing seeing him. Oh, this was going to be _fun..._

William looked up when someone knocked on the bedroom door, and his entire body tensed until he heard Ronald's voice, which caused him to promptly relax and let out a low sigh of relief. From what William could hear, he was indeed alone, and he thanked the Gods for Ronald's ability to keep both his promises true and his mouth shut.

"Will? It was Grell and Undertaker. They're saying that the demons are back, and they want to see you, and they wanted me to help them find you. You're a pretty hot topic this morning."

William suppressed an irritated groan and instead settled with rolling his eyes; oh, just what he needed, _demons._ Dealing with them was only slightly less pleasant than being skinned alive and dumped in a salt mine.

"Come in, Ronald." He said, though he was unable to keep the irritated note out of his voice. He stood and walked toward the door, meeting Ronald there as the door swung open. Ronald seemed to know that William wasn't irritated with him, though William was sure he saw a bit of relief flash in Ronald's eyes when he spoke next.

"What in the world do those mangy hellhounds want?" William nearly groaned, readjusting his grip on the bloodied clothes and wishing he could just go back to bed, preferably while warm, pliant-bodied little Ronald was cuddled up next to him. He blinked in mild curiosity when Ronald took the clothes from him, but didn't resist, and even felt his mood improve a little when Ronald kissed his cheek affectionately. Ronald turned and walked away, and William followed, for once not minding the fact that Ronald didn't look him in the eye and answer promptly, as he usually made all his employees do. He could let it slide; they were off duty right now, afterall, and Ronald had snatched a very special place in his heart. (Though, Ronald didn't have to know that just yet, and William wasn't about to admit it.)

Not that Ronald should expect special treatment when they were on duty. William would be sure of that.

"I have no idea." Ronald said, and William watched as he walked into the main room and opened the large wardrobe to the right of the hallway entrance. "Those two just told me that the demons wanted to see you, and Undertaker said something about 'unfinished business', so I guess it's out of my league."

"Sounds like it." William agreed grimly, studying the wardrobe with absent curiosity. Inside and to the left were several brown boxes, large and small, stacked on top of each other according to size, and neatly tucked away. Next to them was a single laundry basket, and Ronald placed the clothes inside and closed the wardrobe, turning to face William again. "I just wish it wasn't. I don't feel like putting up with them this early in the morning."

Ronald checked his watch, looking mildly amused, and spoke with a small, teasing note in his voice.

"It's nearly noon, Will."

"It's still far too early."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's _always _too early when it comes to demons. Wretched filth." William said with a small scoff of contempt. "I sincerely wish that we could just get rid of them."

"Well, you know the old saying. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

"Sadly, it's the truth. How unfortunate."

Ronald laughed, and William felt Ronald's arms twine around his shoulders, and his own arms wrapped around the blond's waist without him even having to think about it.

"You'll be fine." Ronald said, pressing their lips together gently. "I believe in you."

William pulled Ronald closer, and as their lips touched again, beginning to move together as their tongues mated, he was pretty sure that he could do anything with Ronald at his side, because something deep inside of him, some hollow, empty, aching space, had finally been filled. It was funny, considering how Ronald had his heart in a complete and utter headlock, which meant that the youth, if he truly desired, could tear him to shreds in a way that no one else, not even Undertaker, could.

Still, that would never happen... right?

Of course not.


	48. Promotions

xlovelyxnightmarex AKA cyan-sonata at dA made this wonderful cosplay entitled "Because you stayed" and posted it over at dA. Linkie here: .com/?order=24&q=because%20you%20stayed#/d36amvp

That's a damn cute cosplay, yo. 33

Thank you!

xxx

It had been an interesting morning for Undertaker. He'd woken up to find Grell missing, and he was getting ready to go out looking for him only to have him walk through the door just as he was standing up to head out. He had brought them both breakfast, and, somehow, had stolen a tonic for Undertaker as he'd passed the infirmary. After debating with Grell for several minutes over whether or not William would kill him for sneaking it under his nose, and whether or not it was safe for Undertaker to use it in the first place, he'd finally bitten the bullet and just drank it. So far, he'd had no adverse side effects-save for a few twinges of pain here and there-besides nearly making himself sick at the taste of it. Once that had passed, however, he'd enjoyed a pleasant conversation over breakfast with Grell, who insisted upon cuddling up next to him the entire time. It was after breakfast, right when they were cleaning up, that Undertaker sensed the demonic presence of a certain ex-earl and his butler appear in the Library.

"Ah," Undertaker said, looking up as the presence made itself known on the stairs of the Library. He dusted his hands on his cloak absently, then stood and set the dirtied dishes on the bedside table, pleased to see that his side ached much less than it had before. "It seems we have visitors."

"Sebas-chan and his brat?" Grell asked, letting Undertaker handle the plates, as his days as a butler had certainly proved that he and fine china didn't exactly mix. He'd nearly dropped them twice in the hallway, afterall. "I was wondering if they were going to hide down there forever."

"Well, it's good that they've come back. Either Phantomhive or his butler need to become a Wire if they wish to keep the world turning." Undertaker said with a raised eyebrow, tapping his chin with one overlong nail. "I was going to hunt them down, regardless. It's imperative that one of them make the change. Suppose this saves me the trouble, though."

Grell looked at the small pile of dishes and shrugged, standing up and tossing out his long, crimson hair with a flick of his head. It seemed to be a dismissive gesture, as he waved his hand at the dirty dishes as though they were a bothersome child that he was shooing away.

"Let's just leave these here." He said, wrapping his arms around Undertaker's shoulders and kissing his unmarked cheek, earning an affectionate nuzzle in return. "Will really would kill us if he knew that we knew there were demons here, and we weren't keeping an eye on them."

"Amen." Undertaker snickered, letting himself be gently tugged along without complaint as Grell led him toward the bedroom door. "You know how he is."

Grell led him out of the room, being sure to lock it behind him, and then out of the Lower-Officer Wing entirely, until their heels clicked and echoed off of the tiled walls of the main hall of the Library. There, standing at the top of the stairs and conversing quietly with each other, Ciel and Sebastian were clad in fine dress as usual, looking just as healthy as ever. At the sound of the two Shinigami approaching, they stopped talking and looked down immediately; Sebastian with a small frown, Ciel with the usual, confident smirk that Sebastian had always worn in the past. Truly, Ciel had stolen Sebastian's trademark smile, and there wasn't a damn thing Sebastian could do about it. You could almost hear the kid's mental "Neener neener neener!" these days.

"Sebas-chan!" Grell crowed, waving almost frantically with one arm, the other firmly interlocked with Undertaker's to show that he was only calling to the demon for comedic effect. Undertaker raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the grin that crossed his face when Sebastian rolled his eyes from behind Ciel, looking both a tad irritated and a tad bored. Ciel's smirk grew by a tiny fraction, and he spoke before Sebastian could tell Grell to shove off, his voice calm and with the usual, slight hint of his haughty attitude. Nothing the Shinigami weren't used to, of course, though it never ceased to grate William's nerves to no end.

"Hello, Undertaker. You wouldn't happen to know where Mr. Spears is, would you?" He asked casually, taking a few steps down the stairs and leaning on the railing, his finely made cane in his hand as he smirked down at his old informant. "I'd like to have a word with him."

"Weeeelll, Ear-er, _Ciel,_ normally you know my fee in exchange for information. However, in return for helping us so much lately, I suppose I could let this slide." Undertaker said, leaning on Grell as he spoke, pleasantly surprised by how well the redhead supported his weight. "I have no idea where William is right now, but I suppose we could track him down for you."

"That would be very much appreciated." Ciel said, straightening himself and reaching into his pocket. "By the way, this is for you. Catch."

He pulled out what appeared to be a small, metallic, ivory object from his coat pocket and tossed it underhand to Undertaker. Undertaker caught it easily in his right hand, and looked down at it with mild curiosity; curiosity that rapidly turned into shocked awe. What he held was Claudia's scythe, the steel blue switchblade safely flipped inward, the flower-carved, intricate handle in perfect condition. Slowly, he pressed a thumb against the inconspicuous release switch on the side of the handle, and studied the blade that sprang forth; perfectly polished, free of chips and scratches, and in mint condition. Undertaker knew for a fact that it would have been at least somewhat damaged when it had sank into the tiled walls of the Library, which meant that not only had Ciel returned it, but he'd repaired it as well.

"...Thank you." Undertaker said humbly after a moment of speechless silence, folding the blade back in and stowing it safely in his sleeve. "This means quite a lot. I've been looking for it for centuries, and I was sure that it was lost during the battle."

"Think nothing of it." Ciel said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his visible eye rolling as though Undertaker was being ridiculous by showing gratitude. "I had no use for it, so I had Sebastian repair it to return to you. Consider it your reward for your work in my... _past life, _shall we say. Now," He continued, turning his back to the Shinigami and heading back up the stairs with an easy, almost arrogant stride. "We'll be waiting in the infirmary. Come, Sebastian."

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian said with a slight bow that was strictly in Ciel's direction. He turned and following after Ciel with a brisk, proper gait, proof that things were slowly getting back to normal, even if the pain of all the love ones lost was still very fresh indeed.

Grell crossed his arms and pouted, and what he said next made Undertaker come out of his startled daze and laugh, as Grell's usual quirkiness always seemed to have that affect on him, no matter what the situation. It was just one thing out of dozens that he adored about Grell.

"Well, I still don't like him."

000

After running around the entire Library for thirty minutes and coming up with nothing, the two finally found themselves at Ronald's door. They were starting to get a little flustered, as William didn't appear to be in any of the Officer Wings, in the primary Library section, among the bookshelves, on (or behind, as Grell had insisted on checking, and had ended up starting a ten minute makeout session) the staircase, or in the Infirmary (which, they didn't even check, as William would have thrown a hissy-fit if he had been in there and the demons had walked in unannounced. Besides, he certainly hadn't been there when Grell had the audacity to swipe one of his precious tonics.)

Grell raised a dainty, gloved hand and knocked with the back of it, tip-toeing to get a good reach of the upper door and making Undertaker smile at the utterly adorable action. He stepped back and leaned against Undertaker, who leaned against the doorframe and wrapped a loving arm around him, as he and Grell were obviously very open about their relationship. Grell gave an over-exaggerated sigh of bored frustration and snuggled into his robes with a pout, making Undertaker's smile broaden without even meaning to.

"Sheesh... Where could he possibly be? I can't believe that he isn't in his office; he seems glued to that chair most days." Grell complained. "The one time I _want _to come see him for actual business, _poof!_ he disappears!"

Undertaker shrugged, his body in much better condition, though his back still smarted from the motion, and kissed the top of Grell's head, absently playing with a lock of his hair.

"Well, last night was a lot more excitement than what he's used to. It wouldn't surprise me if he's hiding out on purpose. I think you scared the hell out of him." He snickered, gently tickling Grell's ribs and making him squeal softly. "Though, I must say that _I_ certainly enjoyed the show."

Grell swatted his hands away, blushing madly, and took a few steps away from him, turning to cross his arms and pout playfully at Undertaker.

"Well, there's plenty more where that came from." Grell said with a teasing wiggle of his hips. Undertaker smirked, his eyes glittering with mischief, and caught Grell's chin between his fingers.

"I can live with that." He said, kissing the end of Grell's nose and making the redhead giggle madly and flame crimson. Grell ducked away and knocked on the door again in an attempt to hide his flattered face, his knocking a little more forceful than last time.

"Coming!" A voice answered distantly from inside, and a second later, Ronald opened the door, buttoning up the last two buttons of his shirt as the door swung open. "Hey guys." Ronald said cheerily, as he was more a of morning person that anyone else Grell knew. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Will?" Grell whined a little dramatically, crossing his arms and cocking his hips, his pout returning with a vengeance. "We've been looking _everywhere,_ and I'm starting to wonder if he fell off the edge of the Universe. It would be so _typical _of him; sometimes he's the rudest gentleman I know..."

"I haven't seen him since last night." Ronald said, leaning against the opposite edge of the doorframe as Undertaker, and blinking in what appeared to be a thoughtful way. Over Ronald's head, however, Undertaker caught the glint of steel, and he was less than surprised- but highly amused-to see William's scythe lying across Ronald's couch. "Have you checked the courtyard?"

"I knew we were forgetting something!" Grell crowed triumphantly, jumping forward to wrap Ronald in a tight, nearly crushing hug and making the blond gasp for air as Grell threatened to crush him. "Thanks Ronnie!"

"No p-prob!" Ronald gasped, trying to pry Grell off with very little success. He shot Undertaker a pleading look as he continued to gasp for air, his hands scrabbling feebly at Grell's upper arms. "I'll... be out... in five...!"

Undertaker chuckled and tapped Grell's shoulder meaningfully, and Grell, realizing that his best friend was rapidly turning blue, gave a small squeak and immediately let go of Ronald, who fell back against the doorframe with a breathless gasp.

"Sorry about that." Undertaker said, hugging Grell and placing a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, though Grell still tried to mumble apologies around his hand as he wiggled about with a guilty air. "I hope you slept well?"

Grell missed the wink Undertaker shot the blond, but Ronald sure as hell saw it, and he went white with shock as his heart leapt into his throat, like he'd been going downstairs and missed a step. _Undertaker knew! Somehow, the crazy old bastard knew!_

"Y-yeah, it was okay." Ronald said, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I'm a bit of an insomniac, though. Still, parties usually wear me out and give me a chance to have fun, and this one was... no exception..." He continued, his voice dropping to a mumble as Undertaker's grin continued to grow at his unintentional innuendo.

"Mm muh!" Grell agreed with Ronald, still oblivious to the blond's discomfort and Undertaker's teasing. "Mmf muh mm muh mah mmf!"

"Well, we'll leave you alone, then. See you in a bit." Undertaker said cheerily, tugging Grell away this time, before the redhead could see the scythe and raise the alarm; an alarm that would probably involve a lot of squealing and quite a bit of humiliation on William and Ronald's part. Undertaker wasn't going to say anything, as he was pretty sure his first and only creation had just found his first "someone", and he thought it foolish to ruin his happiness. He'd been waiting for William to get out of his social closet for quite awhile, and it tickled him to no end that a social butterfly like Ronald was the one who had finally dragged him out. No, he'd settle with giggling quietly to himself this time, as William would probably need much longer before he was ready to make their relationship known; in some ways, he was still as shy as ever.

"Bye!" Ronald called back, and Undertaker did allow himself a minuscule giggle as the door was shut with the haste of someone who had just been caught redhanded. Grell gave him a funny look, but Undertaker merely ruffled his hair fondly and continued towing him out of the Higher-Officer Wing.

"Nothing, nothing. My own brand of humor."

"I probably don't want to know, then. I bet it doesn't even make sense."

"Exactly."

They continued chattering on as they headed for the courtyard, neither of them with a care in the world.

000

The portal opened at the base of the false Big Ben in the courtyard inner-training grounds, and William T. Spears stepped out, readjusting his glasses as he glanced around to make sure that no one was around to see him. The coast was clear, as far as he could tell, and he tensed his legs and leapt to the top of the model clock with ease, as he was now back in top condition. He glanced around for any signs of life once again, but found none, and he took a step off of the clock and let himself drop like a stone, landing in a cat-like crouch, before straightening himself and heading directly for the Library doors.

He hadn't been expecting anyone to be inside the concrete city, as it was very rare for anyone to even glance at it on a regular basis, unless they were holding the uncommon training-session, and therefore, it had been the perfect spot to transfer to. Ronald had told him that he'd sent Grell and Undertaker here, and it had worked out perfectly, as William could easily feign innocence, and no one would be any wiser.

He was just passing the replica of the Tower of London when a bright flash of sunlight reflecting off of polished silver caught his eye, and he turned to see what it was, only to nearly have his jaw drop at what he saw.

There, on the front of the tower, William laid eyes on the Memorial Plaque for the first time. He stared, utterly speechless, at the list of names of the fallen, and the finely carved portraits above every one. In the center, there was a portrait of Eric and Alan together, with their names finely enscripted below, and the words "Not Even Death Could Do Them Part". William's keen eye took in everything, and even his deft attention for tiny details could find no fault. One word came to his mind, completely unbidden; _perfect._

William, stunned, slowly approached the monument and laid one gloved hand on the front of it, his fingers gently, admiringly tracing over the fine, delicate inscriptions as he read over those that were within reach. He knew Ronald had taken care of the funeral plans, but he'd never heard this particular detail before, and his respect for the blond grew infinitely as he continued to admire the monument. Everything was neatly set, perfectly polished, and molded into place so beautifully, that he didn't mind at all that they'd changed the face of his favorite replica in the entire city without his permission.

In fact, he was _glad _they did. He firmly believed that it was a wonderful way to honor his fallen creations, and he was actually _honored _that they chose the spot that was widely known to be his favorite.

After a long moment, he slowly stepped back, and then bowed before the plaque, a single, breathless sentence leaving his lips.

"Nor shall Death erase your legacies."

He saw the shadows behind him as he rose again, and he knew who it was without even looking. He turned, calmly, to face Grell, Undertaker, and Ronald, who were all admiring the memorial with quiet respect, being careful not to interrupt William, who'd, sadly, been the only one to miss the event.

They all looked at William somberly as he walked past them, his usual cold, stoic air back in place. However, Grell really did squeal when William reached out and ruffled Ronald's hair fondly as he passed, his tone a tad pleased, though his voice was as flat and indifferent as ever.

"Consider yourself promoted." He said, glancing at Ronald from the corner of his eye as he continued toward the Library. "Yes... vice president Knox; it has a nice ring to it."

Ronald stared, dumbly, and then nearly passed out at that very moment, and Undertaker quickly caught him before he could smack back against the concrete. William glanced back at Grell then, his voice a tad exasperated, but with a much more grudging note of praise.

"And I suppose you've earned your old room and your position back, Sutcliff. But I'll be watching you like a hawk. In your shoes, I'd behave."

"Thankyouthankyouthankyoooou!" Grell crowed, leaping to wrap William in an overzealous hug. William expertly sidestepped him at the last moment, and he shook his head as Grell hit the ground and rolled head over heels, before coming to a rather unladylike stop with his ass in the air. Undertaker, who was still supporting a stunned and senselessly babbling Ronald, burst into laughter as he began to drag the blond along after the other two. Ronald continued to stare at his snowy white shoes as though they were magical and were telling him the secrets of the Universe, and kept mumbling something that sounded like "Oh my Gods, vice president...?" over and over.

As William opened the doors and held them for the other three to pass through, he took a deep breath and prepared to have the demons use their powers of sarcasm to drag his good mood kicking and screaming straight out of him.

This would be fun.


	49. Wired Up

"May I ask just why you're up and running around? And why you're being stupid enough to drag _him _around?" William asked sternly as Undertaker dragged Ronald inside, the elder Shinigami snickering as the blond's mumbling died down to simply staring at the opposite wall with a perplexed, awed look. William rolled his eyes, though inwardly, he wondered if he'd just gone and broken his boyfriend's brain by mistake. That would most certainly be a problem...

Undertaker opened his mouth to reply, but Grell leapt behind William and began pushing him forward roughly, laughing a loud, fake laugh to drown out any noise Undertaker might make. As he did so, he shot Undertaker a pleading look, begging him to shut up and just let William get distracted.

"Ooooh, I just _remembered_ Willy-dear!" Grell crowed, his voice loud and high-pitched, drowning out William's growl of irritation. "Sebas-chan and his little monkey are up in the Infirmary, and they want to talk yooou~! We should probably go take care of that, huh?"

William turned and smacked Grell's hands away, then promptly reached out and began to roughly box his ears, his voice laced with irritation and the usual no-nonsense tone he used when speaking to Grell. He was quite obviously pissed, and Grell, his head bobbing side-to-side as William smacked him about his ears repeatedly, was honestly wondering if William was about to take his scythe and his room back again.

"For the hundred thousandth time, Sutcliff, don't manhandle me!" William growled, dropping his hands to snatch the front of Grell's shirt and haul him close, their noses almost touching as he hissed his warning. "And if you e_ver_ do something like that to my scythe again, I'll put you on janitorial duty. _Permanently."_

"S-sorry!" Grell sputtered, shrinking back from William's harsh stare and raising his hands defensively, expecting another smack. "I'm sorry!"

"Of course you are. Yet you never cease to be a moron. It makes me think that you're _never_ sorry, which, actually, is probably the case." William said with an exasperated sigh, releasing Grell and turning toward the stairs, making the redhead let out a loud sigh of relief. "What in the name of the Gods do they want, anyway?"

"No idea." Undertaker answered, wordlessly handing Ronald to Grell when the redhead ran and hid behind him, peaking at William over the cloaked shoulder with obvious apprehension. Grell took the still shell-shocked Ronald without complaint, deciding it was best that he keep his hands occupied and _away_ from William, just in case. "They just said that they wanted to see you. I still need to talk to them myself, though, so at least you'll have company!" He said cheerily, pinching William's cheek as he passed by and earning a rough swat to his hand, making him chortle with amusement. Ah, William was a bucket of laughs without ever meaning to be...

"Wait for us!" Grell called cheerily, hefting Ronald and dragging him after the other two, who were now climbing the large set of steps at a brisk pace. "We're coming too!"

"Wonderful." William said dryly, his voice more than a tad sarcastic as he crested the stairs and headed for the infirmary, deciding it was best to just get this hellish event over with and get the damn demons out of his library ASAP.

He approached the door of the infirmary and pushed it open unceremoniously, readjusting his glasses and appearing to be all-business-as usual-as it swung forth, revealing Ciel seated on an empty bed, ever-loyal Sebastian standing at his side. Ciel appraised William with a cold smirk as the Shinigami walked in, and for once, Sebastian held the same expression as his master.

"Ah, you've finally arrived, Mr. Spears." Sebastian said with a cocky smirk and a small, mocking tilt of his head. "It isn't wise to keep guests waiting, you know. They may become nosy and troublesome."

William's eye twitched, and Undertaker slipped inside, knowing that he may have to keep an all-out brawl at bay if William's already frayed nerves were tested too much. Besides, the banters between William and the demons never ceased to amuse him, and he saw no reason to miss out on some giggles while simultaneously keeping the peace. In fact, he was rather looking forward to the encounter, and William knew it. However, it didn't annoy the dark-haired Shinigami nearly as much as the demons did, so Undertaker got off scott-free.

William glanced back as a panting Grell towed Ronald in by the wrist a few seconds later, the door squealing closed behind the two of them. The blond had managed to regain himself enough to stand and somehow move with Grell, but he stumbled badly as Grell drug him in, and he was still far too stunned to speak a coherent sentence. Ciel looked highly amused at the sight of them, and William wanted to slap the ever-growing smirk straight off of Sebastian's face when the demon spoke again, his voice dripping honey-sweet sarcasm.

"You're certainly running a fine establishment, though."

"Thank you." William said venomously, his hands sliding into his pockets as he reminded himself over and over that gentlemen did _not_ beat the utter shit out of demons while calling them everything but a respectable man with an honest, pious mother, no matter how tempting it may be. "We're fortunate that _we're still standing."_

Sebastian's smirk fell then as he realized the meaning of William's taunt, and Ciel quirked an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. Inwardly, he was enjoying the show just as much as Undertaker, who was grinning from the corner and munching his bone-shaped cookies like popcorn. Grell stood next to him and snuck a cookie from the jar Undertaker was clutching, watching with wide, entranced eyes and doing his best to nudge Ronald back into reality with his elbow, hoping the dazed blond would get a chance to see the show. Ronald blinked stupidly and looked at him as though he were insane, then stared at the cookie Grell pressed into his hand like it was a bar of gold.

William, knowing that he had won that argument, decided to take his victory and move things along with his usual straight face, as _he_ certainly wasn't going to sink as low as that _stupid fucking demon_ and continue goading things on. He wasn't going to take the low road, no sir; he was better than _that._

"That", of course, being Sebastian and his eternal-bitchery to an arrogant, whiny child. William didn't even have to try to one-up that. _Bam._ Irreputable evidence that Shinigami, once again, came out on top. Suck it, Michaelis.

"Now," William continued, turning to Ciel and completely cutting Sebastian off, as Sebastian's duty as a butler demanded that he never interrupt a conversation between his master and someone else, lest it was an emergency or something of the like. The corner of William's mouth twitched with satisfaction when he felt Sebastian's death glare boring into the side of his head, as though the demon was hoping that the laws of the Universe would change and that, yes, looks _could_ kill. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"Territory boundaries between the Realms, and just how we go about sorting them out." Ciel said, crossing his legs and lacing his hands together in his lap. "After this incident, I'm sure you don't want us barging in unannounced, lest we cause another uproar by mistake."

_How ironic, considering you just barged in unannounced and disturbed my time with Ronald, you sniveling little canker sore._ William thought bitterly to himself, and he felt the urge to let a grim smile reach his lips, though he kept his mouth shut.

"That's correct." He said instead, careful to keep his voice calm as he readjusted his glasses with two fingers. "I'd prefer some sort of warning, especially when you start adding new demons to the so-called 'home' you call Hell. Nothing but trouble ever seems to arise when nonsensical demons walk in as though I actually want them here."

No one missed the mildly scathing note in William's voice, nor the half-second glance he shot at Sebastian, who somehow glowered harder in response. Ciel cleared his throat loudly, and William flicked his eyes back and stared at him with a cold, expectant gaze.

"What do you propose, then?" Ciel asked curtly, his foot gently tapping the floor and somehow pissing off William even further. "It is your establishment, afterall."

"If you absolutely must see me, and I mean _absolutely must,_ bring him a note," William responded dryly and without hesitation, gesturing toward Undertaker, who grinned and waved at them from his cookie corner. "And have him bring it here. Unlike you, he's always welcome, and you certainly know where to find him."

"I haven't changed shop locations in a century and a half!" Undertaker confirmed, gnawing away happily on a cookie. Grell was nibbling daintily at his, while Ronald was finally working up the sense to take a bite of his, the sweet taste seeming to snap him back into place. William suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and simply toyed with his glasses once again, continuing on as though his companions didn't look like utter idiots.

"Therefore, should a demon arrive unannounced, I reserve the right to set my employees on him, and neither I nor my workers are to be held responsible if your minion is killed in the midst of it." William said bluntly. "There's no excuse for not sending a warning, and I'm not one to give three strikes. There's already been two instances of demons nearly destroying my establishment thus far, and I'm not risking any more, no matter how much you contest it. I'm firm in where I stand."

"That's fair." Ciel said, sitting back from where he had been leaning in towards William attentively, making the Shinigami want to roundhouse kick him in the jaw to make him sit back again. "Those aren't hard conditions to meet, right, Sebastian?"

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian answered, but with much less enthusiasm than usual. He continued to glower at William as though William was the source of everything that grieved him, and William shot him a piercing look that would have made anyone else burst into flames.

"And _your_ conditions?" William asked curtly, flicking his eyes back to Ciel and getting the distinct impression that Sebastian desperately wanted to strangle him. This satisfied him immensely, and he let his ego bask in the fact that he was able to push Sebastian's buttons just by keeping his usual straight face.

Hell yeah.

"Similar to yours, as far as arriving unannounced goes. I won't guarantee the safety of your men if you refuse to guarantee the safety of mine." Ciel said airily, studying the ceiling as he thought. "However, having someone come to Hell to announce you in the first place is a tad trickier, as there's not really anyone who's really all that welcome there..."

"I can take care of it." Undertaker piped up again, swallowing the last of a cookie and licking the crumbs from his lips. "It's not as if I'm not used to playing messenger."

Ciel quirked and eyebrow, and Sebastian stopped glaring at William long enough to give Undertaker a skeptical, searching look, trying to figure out whether or not he was up to something. Undertaker shrugged in return, tapping his temple in a "think about it" gesture.

"Well, I'm retired, aren't I? I'm only a Shinigami in body these days, not by profession, as I hung up my scythe long ago." He said, taking a few steps forward and poking Ciel's nose, grinning at the way Ciel scowled back at him. "By all rights, I'm a neutral party when there isn't some sort of crisis that demands that I defend my own kind, and obviously, that doesn't happen all that often. I'm not going to go down to Hell and start trouble just because we have a difference in species, as I gave that up when I gave up my position as a Shinigami." He said with a chortle and a small glance at William, who gave him an irritated look in return. "Besides, after you so kindly returned the scythe of my deceased companion, I suppose this is the least I can do to return the favor."

"Hmm..." Ciel hummed, contemplating the offer carefully, his eyes flicking from Undertaker to William to Sebastian and then back again. "Well... I suppose. You've never lied to me before, and you're competent enough to get a simple job like this done. You know how to get to Hell, I assume?"

Undertaker chuckled and ruffled Ciel's hair affectionately, making Ciel smack his hand away and causing Grell to growl with jealousy, which startled poor, dazed little Ronald and made him jump. Undertaker laughed again, louder, and William couldn't help but feel amused at the way Grell and Ciel bristled like porcupines; they finally seemed to be agreeing on something, and that was that Undertaker was going a bit far.

"The same way you get to the Library, of course." Undertaker said cheerily, readjusting his hat slightly with one finger. "Really, now, don't be so condescending. I'm a Wire to the Gods, I know my way around the Realms. Ah, yes, speaking of which..."

All eyes were on Undertaker as he sat on the bed next to Ciel, who immediately leaned away from him, his visible eye staring at the gray-garbed Shinigami suspiciously, like he was expecting him to do something to hypocrisize his promise of not starting anything. Sebastian tensed just the faintest amount, and William moved away to stand in the corner next to Ronald, muttering something about not wanting to hear the shouting and making the blond look up at him innocently as he nibbled the cookie, finally seeming to be back with the rest of them.

"What was that?" Sebastian asked pleasantly, though their was an underlying note of menace in his voice, hinting at danger should William answer the wrong way. "Is there a reason Bocchan would be shouting?"

"Ah, either you or he. It's inevitable." Undertaker said sagely, shrugging dismissively when Sebastian scowled at him for interrupting. "It's quite brief, though, and the benefits are well worth it. That is, if you don't mind the occasional voices in your head, or the fact that you can collapse without warning at any given second for the rest of eternity."

"What in the bloody hell are you getting at?" Ciel asked softly, raising a hand to halt Sebastian when the older demon took a small step forward. William went still as stone and glared murderously at Sebastian, his eyes narrowing in a way that said _Do it. I fucking dare you._ Sebastian met the look with one of his own, the message in his eyes just as clear; _Don't tempt me, reaper._

"Ah, you see, Ciel, one of you must take on the duty of becoming a Wire like myself, else the balance will be thrown off. You see, Shinigami and demons are the only two species in existence-on this world, at least, I'm not sure about the rest of the Universe-who need to have at least one individual in constant connection with the Gods. Mortals are our means of survival, and since they hold so very little knowledge of the Gods to begin with, they're treated more as livestock than anything important enough to have an actual permanent connection with the Gods. Angels are so close to the Gods that they act as messengers to the mortals, should the need ever arise, so a connection there is unnecessary as well, as the angels can speak with the Gods whenever they please. Shinigami and demons, however, would be just as lost as mortals without a Wire available, but since we're higher on the totem pole and were put here to keep the mortals in check, chaos would reign if we couldn't receive messages from the Gods when we need to. I suppose their precious angels are just too busy to be bothered with the rest of us immortals, as they all have a holier-than-thou attitude, but it's easier this way, anyway. We don't have to worry about purified pricks getting feathers everywhere."

Ciel relaxed visibly, but Sebastian continued to remain tense, William eying him dangerously the entire time, just waiting for him to make the wrong move so he could finally unleash hell on his sorry demonic ass. Ciel seemed more intrigued than anything now, but Sebastian had learned all too well over the years that curiosity really _did_ kill the cat.

Undertaker paid them no mind, and simply continued to study Ciel, a finger to his lips as he considered the minuscule demon before him.

"So, the question is, Mr. Phantomhive... Is it you, or your butler who will take on the responsibility? Now," He said, holding up a finger to silence Ciel, who had opened his mouth to speak. "As I said before, you may be prone to fainting and occasionally hearing voices, but it's all the work of the Gods contacting you. Typically, you'll hear a few words, and then you'll get dizzy, and then you have a few seconds to prepare yourself before you drop into a minor coma, usually for about ten or twenty minutes. The reason for this being is that there will be a small entryway in the back of your mind in the form of a tiii~ny door. You can put yourself into a special state and knock on it if you want to try and get in touch with the Gods, but let me say from experience that I've never had them answer me. The Gods aren't nearly as polite as they want us to be, though, as they're quite busy handling all the matters of the Universe and don't have the time nor the reason to see if you answer the door, and they'll simply kick your door open with only a small amount of warning. Usually, though, if it's important enough for them to come and get you, it's usually worth smacking your head for. The Gods are impatient smartasses, but I must admit that I've grown a tad fond of them, even if they are annoying."

Ciel raised an eyebrow, waiting for Undertaker to continue his speech, but the ancient Shinigami merely grinned back down at him, his brilliant green eyes sparkling with amusement. He said nothing for several long moments, and Ciel finally got the impression that Undertaker wanted _him_ to say something.

"...That's it?" Ciel asked, honestly a little surprised that the job seemed to come with only a bit of responsibility. Normally when one thinks "direct messenger of the Gods" one thinks of quite a bit more than randomly passing out from time to time.

"That's all there is to it!" Undertaker said with a small chuckle. "Though, the transformation _into_ a Wire is rather painful, but I'm going to try and make it as quick as possible. Keep in mind that there must always be an equal number of Wires on both sides, though, which is why William wasn't a Wire to begin with, as there were a thousand Wires on both sides and I didn't want to disrupt that. Therefore, I can't change you both... Not unless someone else is willing to become the second Shinigami Wire...?" He said, craning his head back to look at the others, a curious look on his face.

"I have enough to worry about." William said bluntly, readjusting his glasses with a firm, decisive air.

"I don't want to hear voices. Will says I'm crazy enough." Grell said, sounding a tad apologetic.

"I'm just starting to get over my latest promotion," Ronald said weakly, leaning against the wall, still with a mildly bewildered look on his face as he finished off the cookie. "I don't think I can handle that."

Undertaker chuckled to himself and looked back down at Ciel, not seeming bothered by his companions' lack of enthusiasm.

"You see? Well, decide amongst yourselves, then." Undertaker said, stretching and squinting his eyes indulgently as a few kinks in his back popped themselves out, erasing some of the tenderness there. "I can wait."

"I'll do it." Ciel said immediately, without even sparing a glance back at Sebastian, who shot a mildly indignant look at the back of his head. "If I could run my old estate without problems, I don't see why I can't run Hell and get it back on its feet while dealing with a few reclusive Gods."

"Keep in mind that no one individual can rule everything, it's all about cooperation and careful balance among the ranks, not monarchy." Undertaker said grimly, his grin disappearing into a serious look that was usually very unlike him. "William may be top dog in the Library, but he's got a careful hierarchy system set up, and he's veeee~ry sure to reward and punish fairly. He's got a set of rules for himself that he adheres to, and he does pay everyone before himself, makes sure they all get fed first, ecetera... You must eat the humble pie in that position; William's a boss, not a king, and he knows it. To be frank, my dear Ciel, you were always perched atop a very high horse. I worry about you taking on such a huge responsibility without letting it get to your head."

"Tch." Ciel scoffed, giving Undertaker a bit of a sour look, as though he were stupid for stating the truth. "Do you really believe that I treated my own employees so crudely? There was a hierarchy at my manor, with myself on top, Tanaka below me, Sebastian below him, and then the servants under his command. They were all treated with pay, shelter, good food, and plenty to keep them going. I don't see how I can't take what I know and expand from there, so long as I start small."

"Very well, then. I suppose we'll just have to bite the bullet with this situation, hm? Not much we can do besides take chances." Undertaker said, his grin returning with a slight shrug. "Remove your eyepatch."

"...What?" Ciel asked, instantly suspicious once more, his visible eye narrowing as he calculated the Shinigami before him. Sebastian took another half step forward, and William took a small step toward Sebastian, the two exchanging a heated look once again, as though they would rip each other's throats out then and there.

"Remove your eyepatch. Heaven forbid it get in the way during the transformation, that would only serve to make things more painful." Undertaker said a tad impatiently, reaching up and tugging Ciel's eyepatch off without bothering to let the ex-earl do it himself, revealing the contract so deeply embedded into the cerulean iris, which promptly flashed red, the pupils contracting into slits as the boy's fear could finally be seen. Sebastian emitted a low growl, and William summoned his death scythe, watching the situation intently, ready to beat the older demon off if he had to.

"Now, hold still, keep quiet," Undertaker said, grabbing a handful of Ciel's hair and tilting his head back, forcibly holding him in place. "And don't blink." He murmured, raising two fingers to Ciel's face.

Ciel's scream of shock and pain chilled even Grell's blood when Undertaker sank one long, sharp nail into either of the terrified boy's eyes, setting off a chain of events that moved so quickly that Grell almost couldn't keep up.


	50. Not Over

Sebastian let out a ripping, animalistic growl and immediately lunged for Undertaker, his claws stabbing through the fingers of his gloves and ready to do some serious damage. William, in the same instant, summoned his death scythe and darted forward, one end held between each gloved hand as he nearly dived into the rapidly-closing space between the two.

There was a loud, unearthly snarl as the adult demon's throat came into painfully abrupt contact with the harsh metal handle of the scythe, stopping him in his tracks and completely knocking the wind out of him, making him cough roughly several times. William, his feet braced into the floor and his body tensed for action, was a mere three inches away from Sebastian's face... and, consequently, a rather nasty twin pair of fangs. Sebastian growled again, his eyes flashing a dangerous red as he whipped his hand up and swiped at William's face, his claws whistling through the air like tiny knives. William jerked back at the last second, and his glasses went flying from their perch on his nose and smacked into the far wall, thankfully saving his face from being cut open, even though their loss blinded him. He wasn't quick enough to dodge the second strike, however, and he went stumbling back with four long gashes in his cheek, blood spattering the floor at his feet instantly as the death scythe fell from his hands.

His vision blurred and the enraged demon far too close for comfort, William was earnestly expecting to get his head torn off by the next hit Sebastian aimed at him. That is, until he saw, through the haze of his poor vision, a flash of a blond hair and what sounded like a snarl from Sebastian and a _very_ pissed off Ronald Knox.

"You'd better rethink that, demon." Ronald hissed, one hand with a tight hold on either of Sebastian's wrists, which had been raising as Sebastian prepared to tackle William and rip his throat out. His two-toned eyes meeting the demon's fearlessly, Ronald didn't show any of the terror he felt when Sebastian lunged forward and tried taking a bite out of his face, his teeth clicking together next to Ronald's ear as the blond jerked his head to the side and avoided the blow. "Or your stupid kid won't be the only one screaming!"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes defiantly, but just as he was tensing his muscles to kick Ronald away and move to help his still-shrieking Bocchan, he felt a slender yet surprisingly strong arm encircle his waist, and then a second curl around his neck as a gloved finger gently stroked his cheek. A soft, menacing voice purred in his ear, and he glanced from the corner of his eye to see Grell's massive, horrendously sharp teeth a mere inch from his neck, making him freeze; if Grell decided to rip his throat out, it wouldn't kill him, but it would sure as hell keep him from helping Ciel.

"If you hurt my sweetheart, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ruin your good looks, Sebas-chan. You wouldn't want to end up like you friend Resmodus, now would you?" Grell crooned, though the arm around his neck tightened just the faintest amount, daring Sebastian to test him. "And I'd advise keeping your paws off of my friends, too, Sebby."

Sebastian growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing red again as his glare flicked between Ronald and Grell, sizing up his competition, even though Ciel's scream had now petered out to a quiet whimpering and it no longer appeared that he needed to intervene. Still, he had no idea what was going on, but he didn't trust the soul-reaping bastards around him one bit, and he was sure that it was all some sort of trick to bring deathly harm to one or both of them.

Before he could launch an attack on either of them, though, he heard William's footsteps cross the floor, and then the sound of the Head Shinigami picking up and replacing his glasses. It was then that he felt the sharp tip of the blade of William's scythe against his back, and he felt his humiliation at being in such a position worsen; today was just _not_ his day.

"You're lucky that we're so very short on demons, Michaelis, otherwise I'd tear you apart limb from limb for that." William said dryly, though there was obviously a very, very dangerous note in his voice, emphasized by the murderous gleam in his eyes as he glowered at Sebastian. "We'll have to settle this later."

Sebastian, knowing that taking on three Shinigami was pure suicide and wouldn't help Ciel in the slightest, simply growled at William in response, though he knew he'd have to back down. William narrowed his eyes in return, a few drops of blood falling from his face and staining his previously pristine white shirt. The blood blooming like tiny roses when it hit the fabric, William glanced down at his ruined garment, then increased the withering glare tenfold. Sebastian, knowing that William was probably going to beat the shit out of him with only the smallest excuse, finally relaxed the faintest amount, showing as much submission as his pride would allow. He looked over Ronald's shoulder at both his master and the ancient Shinigami still seated on the bed, Ciel in the center, Undertaker perched on the edge.

Undertaker's eyes were half-lidded and glowing a strange, paranormal shade of ghostly green, his fingers now buried up to the second knuckle in Ciel's eyes and making Sebastian's fury and desperate desire to protect his master flare. By this point, even Ciel's whimpering had fallen silent, and now he seemed to be in either extreme shock, or some sort of trance, as he did not move in the slightest, not even to breathe. Sebastian caught the faintest murmur of sound from Undertaker, and he strained his ears to catch it, his blood chilling when he heard the chant that was leaving the Shinigami's lips. It was even worse when he figured out that it was in _Latin,_ and that Undertaker's voice had taken on a low, guttural tone that was half growl, half hum, and _all_ terrifying.

No, no, _no._ There was no _way_ this wasn't a trap.

Demon or no, Sebastian was getting ready to call an exorcist, as what Undertaker was doing was twice as fucked up as anything he'd ever done. _Ever_. He shot a sharp look over to William, who had his eyes half-lidded, his lips moving slightly as he mentally translated whatever the hell Undertaker was saying. Ronald, still with a tight grip on Sebastian's wrists, was giving him a perplexed, worried look. Grell, his grip tightening on Sebastian once again, was staring wide-eyed at Undertaker, who seemed to be in a trance as well, as he was completely oblivious to the small squabble which had just taken place.

_"Excitare, surge,"_

"Awaken, arise," William breathed, making Sebastian's panic heighten. Fuck, what kind of ritual was this?

_"Sanctus spiritus,"_

"Be the holy spirit,"

_"Et id somnia."_

"And the thing of nightmares."

_"Divitis domini esse,"_

"Be the rich lord,"

_"Rusticus et orantes."_

"And the begging peasant."

_"Omnibus una,"_

"Be one with all,"

_"Nihilque."_

"And yet nothing."

_"Excitcare, surge,"_

"Awaken, arise,"

_"Ciel Phantomhive."_

_"Ego."_ Ciel breathed, and Undertaker removed his fingers, the glow immediately fading from his own eyes as he let go of Ciel's hair, releasing the child entirely.

"Whoops, down we go..." Undertaker mumbled, his voice suddenly, inexplicably back to normal. He swayed lightly, and William dropped his guard at Sebastian's back to run forth and catch him as he slipped off the side of the bed and headed for the floor like a ton of bricks. William grabbed him under the arms just in time, and his tophat toppled off and fell to the floor, its owner's head mercifully vacant. Ciel was fortunate enough to fall in the other direction, as Sebastian was still being held hostage by the other two Shinigami, and couldn't have been there to catch him. Instead, he flopped back onto the bed, his face a tad pale, but strangely free of blood, startling the living hell out of both Sebastian and the two Shinigami pinning him in place.

Just when you think that things can't get any stranger...

"Really? Calling them into conference when he just turned someone?" William grumbled to himself, hefting Undertaker up and propping him back against the wall as though nothing strange at all had just happened, as though it were an every-day sight. "They're going to absolutely drain him... He'll be exhausted when he wakes up, I'll bet my next paycheck on it."

"What the _hell?"_ Ronald sputtered, dropping his guard more than he should have and giving Sebastian a small window of opportunity. "He...! They...! _What?"_

"That's how it's done." William said matter-of-factly, picking up the tophat and fixing it back on Undertaker's head as he spoke, seeming uninterested in the entire situation... that is, except for the fact that he might just yet get the chance to knock out a few of that butler's teeth. "Only, they've had their doors opened by the Gods, so they'll be rejoining us several minutes later than expected. Really, no sense at all, any of you..."

William's eyes snapped up when Sebastian suddenly kicked Grell where every man-no matter how much they wished they were a woman-hates to be kicked, making him drop with a low scream of pain. He then promptly punched Ronald in the jaw, making the blond yelp and causing him to stumble so badly that he fell to the floor. William was on his feet immediately as Sebastian strode forward and reached the bed, scooping Ciel up and clutching him close without a word, instead using a venomous glare and a slight baring of his fangs as warning. William narrowed his eyes dangerously, his tone nothing less than mocking, taunting the demon into a confrontation that would probably end up drawing much more blood.

"It's typical of a dog to flee with its tail between its legs, is it not?"

"It's typical of a dog to get its pack to fight for it." Sebastian retorted, eying William hatefully, his expression a mixture of apprehension and disgust. "And it's no surprise that you're leading from the sidelines, hound, as that's typical of the top mutt. Bully your way to the top and then take all the prime pickings, is that how it is?"

William's hand was clutched roughly at Sebastian's throat in an instant, holding him in place, the blade of his scythe scraping dangerously over his chest, above his heart, in an all-too clear threat. Sebastian froze, knowing that the blade was within inches of Ciel, and not wishing to risk injury to the defenseless young demon. William's eyes narrowed, and his voice was pure poison when he spoke again; Sebastian had obviously struck a very sensitive nerve.

"That's quite a brash statement, especially considering how it's coming from a demon who's an eternal servant to someone who can't even dress himself. Then again, you were aiming to take advantage of a child who'd been through incredibly horrid things, and you finally got what you deserved. At least I have ease of mind as far as knowing that my own men wouldn't turn against me, nor use me as nothing more than combination of a servant and a walking meat-shield. That is _far_ more than you can say."

"Leave Ciel out of it." Sebastian growled dangerously, though he didn't make a move, as he had a feeling that William's trigger finger was rather itchy at that moment. "It's rather sad that you have to dip to such levels to get your point across. Then again, I didn't expect much better out of a spineless little pencil-pusher like you."

"Then put him down, and we'll settle this ourselves, and I'll show you just how much of a pencil-pusher I truly am." William hissed, the blade pressing into Sebastian's chest until it threatened to draw blood. "Or are you too scared of that as well, dog?"

"Will, he's not worth it..." Ronald said from behind, grabbing William's shoulders and tugging him persuasively. "It sucks, I know, because I'd love to kick his ass just as much, but he's one of only two demons left, and whether or not we like it, we know he needs to stick around. It's not worth it, just let it go..."

William knew that Ronald was right, but he was so utterly fed up with the entire situation that he really didn't care how unprofessional he was acting. Sebastian had sliced his cheek open, threatened his creator, kicked one of his best fighters and few friends in the worst place possible, and then had had the gall to hurt Ronald, with a _sucker punch,_ nonetheless. Somebody was going to pay for all of it, and that somebody was a sorry, soul-sucking waste of space named Sebastian Michaelis.

However, he knew, deep down, that Ronald was right, and he grudgingly let the blond pull him off. Reluctantly, William's fingers released their hold on Sebastian's throat, leaving red marks behind on the pale skin where he'd been gripping hard enough to restrict Sebastian's air flow. With a scornful scoff, he drew his blade away as well, glaring daggers at Sebastian as he allowed Ronald to pull him back another foot or so, before nudging the blond off impatiently.

"Get out." He spat, looking as though he wanted to crush Sebastian like a roach.

"With pleasure." Sebastian snarled, his lip curling back over his gleaming fangs to emphasize his point.

William glared holes in Sebastian's back as the demon turned and leaned his shoulder against the wall, a swirling blue portal opening up after a tense, angry moment of silence. Sebastian walked through as soon as it was large enough for him to fit in, and as he disappeared, he and William exchanged one final, venomous look, both wishing that the other would drop dead.

It was not over.

xxx

Super short chapter, I know. D; But if I had kept going with it, it would have been as long as fuck, and I didn't have as much time to write today. I figured you guys would want a short chapter and not no chapter, and I promise to try and grind out a better one tomorrow. Sorry!


	51. Of Tutus, Tonics, and Ominous Warnings

Sorry for not updating lately, guys. I'm getting a pair of pet rats soon (omg so excited) and I've been busy researching/preparing for that nonstop lately. (I also had writer's block in the extreme.) I need name ideas, anyone want to suggest some? They'll both be male. :)

Also, some more art. Not fanart, but it's too juicy to resist posting. It's called "HAPPY BIRTHDAY Spears coloured" (I'm always exact with names, makes them easier to find XD) and it's by motori at dA. .com/?order=5&q=happy%20birthday%20spears#/d36cpsc

xxx

"Are you okay?" Ronald asked, and William was instantly snapped out of his spiteful glaring at the wall as Ronald's gentle fingers brushed the blood away from his cheek. Ronald's voice was soft, concerned, but William could tell that the youth wanted to shove Sebastian into the nearest vat of acid, and it pleased him in a rather sadistic sort of way. At least both he and Ronald appeared to hate the demon, even though Ronald was notoriously forgiving and was bound to try and see _some_ form of good in him, even if not right at that moment.

Pity.

William glanced down at him, blinking as Ronald's hand brushed over his face once more, smearing some of the blood, but managing to cleanse most away. Ronald smiled weakly at him, but it faltered and turned into a rather uncharacteristic scowl within a few seconds, surprising William mildly. Obviously, Sebastian had ruffled quite a few feathers.

"I'll kill him, I swear..." Ronald hissed, staring at William's blood on his hand with obvious contempt. "He had no right to touch-"

"Go help Sutcliff." William cut in, nudging Ronald's upper back with his hand and making the youth shoot him a small, surprised glance. "I'll clean myself up and take care of Undertaker, but I think Grell's going to need a cold steak in his lap and a bit more help than either of us."

"Oh, right... Grell!" Ronald called, trotting off to the other side of the room, where a still-groaning Grell lay curled tightly in the fetal position, tears of pain beading in his eyes, his body trembling gently as waves of radiating pain continued to flood his body.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Grell gasped hoarsely as Ronald knelt beside him with a look of concern and a gentle, sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Being a kick-boxer by practice, Ronald knew all-to-well what a rough kick in the wrong area could do. "I'm gonna paint my nails red with his blood..."

"And you'll be going nowhere near my tea." William said dryly, now facing the newly-replaced mirror in the infirmary and dabbing away the blood with a handkerchief, his face expressionless, though his eyes flashed with hatred at the sight of the quadruple shallow gashes. "Or the paperwork... or the office... or even the Library. In fact, you won't even come into this _realm_ with anything like that on you, so help me Gods, or I will kick you out so fast that your head will spin."

Ronald's mouth twitched as he held back a smile at William's comment, and he slowly, carefully helped Grell to his feet. The redhead moaned and doubled over when he managed to stand, his crimson tresses nearly trailing the floor as Ronald helped him limp toward the bed, the blond's hands on his shoulders as he aided his close friend. Grell sat down heavily when he reached the bed, placing himself near Undertaker and breathing heavily through his teeth.

"It would be worth it." Grell grunted, elbows on his knees as he struggled to regain his breath, his bangs hiding his face and the tears of pain sweeping down his cheeks. "Oh, it would be _so_ worth it..."

"For once, I completely agree with you." William said dryly, setting the soiled handkerchief aside and reaching up toward the cupboard where the tonics were kept, intent on getting the aftermath of the demon's attack of his face. His eyes swept over the inside of the cupboard as he pulled it open, and he noticed the abnormality instantly; there had been one more tonic on the right side than there was now, and he hadn't authorized that anyone take one. Obviously, someone had snitched a tonic...

And Undertaker had been doing much better than William expected this morning...

"Sutcliff, is there a draft in your officer quarters?" William inquired, his eyebrow traveling up his forehead as he looked back at Grell over his shoulder, his hand sliding into the still-open cupboard. "Is there a spider infestation? A broken pipe, perhaps? Maybe you just don't like the curtains?"

"No..." Grell answered, quickly wiping away the tears and looking up with a confused blink of his duel-green eyes, though he was still doubled over and wondering just how badly he was going to bruise. "No, I like the higher-officer room, the windows have better views..."

"Then why do you insist on having me take it away? You stole a tonic, didn't you?" William snapped, and Grell ducked as a small, plastic cup was thrown at his head; nothing that could have done damage, but definitely enough to get his full attention. "And you gave it to Undertaker, despite the fact that it, internally, it could have caused him to heal incorrectly and create a world of trouble for all of us? And you do this after having it _explicitly explained to you_ how dangerous it was? You bloody blockhead!"

Grell turned white as William crossed the distance in two strides and loomed over him, his ice-cold eyes boring into Grell's dangerously. His hand seized Grell's shirt and tugged him forward until their noses were almost touching as William hissed his necks words like a pissed-off viper.

"You had better pray that nothing ill comes of it, Grell, because if he has to suffer any more than he already has, I'm going wring your neck and then follow through with the janitorial duty, only I'm going to make _sure_ that you get the worst jobs. Are we clear?"

"Y-yes Sir..." Grell stuttered, nearly fainting with relief as William released him without any further consequence, apparently deciding that strangling Grell wasn't worth the trouble. Oh Gods, that man was _scary,_ and yet, so strangely appealing whenever he got that dangerous glint in his eye...

He must get it from Undertaker.

Grell really just couldn't blame Ronald.

"You're lucky that he seems to be doing well so far, Sutcliff." William said sternly, reaching into the cupboard again and pulling out a tonic for himself as well as passing one to Sutcliff, who he just knew would be bruising badly without it. "By this point, it looks like he'll be fine. Still, don't take what I said too lightly; you're still on very thin ice."

"Never." Grell said, exchanging a glance with Ronald, who gave him a sympathetic grin, showing that he also knew full-well that William was dead serious. "I learned that a loooong time ago, Will."

"Good." William said, uncorking the vial. "You're not nearly as thick as I thought, though, you're still _really_ thick."

He passed the tonic to Grell with a small scowl, was just about to take a drink of his own when Undertaker's voice make him whip around, pleasant surprise flashing briefly across his face as he looked to his creator. Grell and Ronald followed suit, looking both apprehensive and extremely curious as to what the ancient retiree had to say.

All three were thoroughly surprised at just what it was.

"You should really bring Ciel back," Undertaker rasped, sitting up and rubbing at his throbbing temples, his limbs feeling weak with all the recent exertion, though his mind was racing. "There's something we must discuss. Immediately."

000

Sebastian carried Ciel throughout the eerily silent, motionless bowels of Hell, headed toward a large stone structure not unlike the Library, but with macabre things like preserved animals and human taxidermy in place of the bookshelves. Ciel was still out cold, an eerie, deep-red light radiating from behind the eyelids of his still visible eye, showing that he was still in conference. Sebastian did his best not to let the sight bother him, but seeing Undertaker treat his Bocchan so poorly had really rubbed him the wrong way, and had even frightened him a little. He was seriously considering whether or not to even allow the retired Shinigami into Hell-despite the fact that it would ruin all arrangements-simply because he had not had the common courtesy to warn Ciel of just what _exactly_ he was going to do.

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, his train of thought screeching to a halt, when Ciel mumbled softly, and his eyes sleepily slid open, blinking with weariness. Ciel slowly raised his head from where it had been leaning against Sebastian's chest, and he focused his eye sleepily on his butler, a rare, fleetingly soft look in them. It would have been adorable, if not for one minor detail.

Sebastian blinked in mild shock; Ciel's eyes were a violent, pure, bloody ruby red, no longer the muddled red-pink that he himself possessed, but instead looking like Lucifer's had before. They were extremely striking, as Sebastian was sure that if he had a soul, those cat-like slits for pupils would have reached in and stolen it with a single glance, and he seriously doubted that any mortal stood a chance against them. Though his new optics were currently weary and in need of rest, they were still bright and calculating and, frankly, extremely captivating. Sebastian found that he couldn't stop staring, and he was too entranced to even be relieved that Ciel's eyes weren't mutilated, as he'd thought they'd surely be. What else could Undertaker's nails possibly have done?

Well, apparently, they'd done the opposite and made an absolute masterpiece.

"Sebastian?" Ciel questioned, shifting in his arms to get a better look at his butler, then glancing around at their familiar, yet so disturbingly quiet surroundings. "Why are we here?"

"Because Shinigami are insufferable, and I won't have them troubling you when you are in such a state." Sebastian said a tad bluntly, though he didn't dare take up too much authority in his tone, lest Ciel making him scrub all the floors with a toothbrush. While blindfolded. And wearing a tutu.

...Again.

"Take me back."

Sebastian stopped and looked down at Ciel as though he were absolutely insane.

"My Lord?" He asked, unable to keep the slight flabbergasted note out of his voice. Ciel hated the Shinigami just slightly less than he did! What the hell was the kid getting at? Normally, he wouldn't go within a mile of the Library unless you drug him there, kicking and screaming and just generally throwing a tantrum. He'd been extra-crabby as of late, just because he'd been forced into the Library so much lately.

Ciel crossed his arms and scowled up at Sebastian in his usual, authoritative way, insulting the butler's intelligence with a single glare. Sebastian pursed his lips and held his tongue, as he knew what was coming next and desperately wanted to talk Ciel out of it-for both their sakes-but his position as a butler demanded that he keep silent as far as objections went, and, instead, had to settle for light inquiry and suggestions.

Suggestions that often turned into passive-aggressive begging.

"That's an order, Sebastian. I've just had a rather mind-blowing experience and I do not wish to dilly-dally about conveying it to you. The point is, the Gods have told Undertaker and I something most troubling."

"May I ask what that is, my Lord?" Sebastian said politely, though he was actually trying to stall and hopefully derail the conversation in order to avoid going within a hundred feet of the blasted reapers.

"They told us," Ciel said grimly, biting his lip until one of his baby-fangs pursed the soft flesh and made it bleed out a single, shimmering drop of crimson. Sebastian did his best to ignore the heavenly scent of the blood, and thought, ruefully, of the soul-as well as the freedom-he'd lost, and just how delicious both would have been.

_Fuck you, Faustus. May you rot where you lie._ Sebastian thought bitterly.

"They said that, within the next century, something that will shake all the Realms to their very core will take place, and that if we can foresee it, we can stop it. Otherwise, and I quote, 'a single black soul will be the end of all of you. It will be driven by the Seven Sins, but it will be pure of body. It will be the black widow that lures you into its web of lies with a sweet smile and a soft whisper as it caresses your cheek and beckons you toward demise. It will be everything you have ever prepared for, and yet, you cannot stop it once it fixes its lips on yours and rips out your breath with a single kiss made of steel teeth. If you wish to save your single stitch in the vast fabric of the Universe, be warned, as you should always be careful to scent the wind, even when it blows the wrong way.'"

"...That is very troubling, indeed." Sebastian said, biting his own lip. "Please tell me that it won't be another act of Hell against the Library? That would look most poor on our resume."

Ciel scoffed and swatted Sebastian's cheek half-heartedly, too distressed by the matter at hand to properly scold him. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow as Ciel averted his eyes, his voice grave, as it was whenever his past-life was mentioned.

"It doesn't sound like it to me. 'A single soul', 'pure of body', 'a sweet smile and a soft whisper'... It doesn't really strike me as demonic. We're beautiful in body to lure in prey, yes, but the methods we use make us anything but pure, which also makes the 'sweet smile and soft whisper' bit a tad... moot, to say the least. I will say that, if demons are one thing, we're cold and emotionless while under contract. Sweet just isn't how we accomplish things. Still, even if it was a demon, 'a single soul' doesn't really sound like the entirety of Hell... perhaps just one demon?"

"Against a Library that might as well be considered out of our league right now, even if it has been weakened? Doesn't sound very plausible." Sebastian contemplated, chewing his lip thoughtfully as he stared off into space, having distracted _himself_ instead of Ciel.

Whoops.

"Well, then, why don't you hurry up and take me back to the Library so I can discuss this with the only other Wire in existence, you bumbling oaf." Ciel snapped after a long moment of silence, obviously becoming impatient. Sebastian snapped back to reality with a tiny jump and a quick glance down at Ciel. Despite the fact that he'd now have to re-trace his steps and deal with that loud-mouthed, idiot brunette again, Sebastian smiled; Ciel was always highly amusing whenever he got cranky.

Until he pulled out the toothbrush, that is.

"Yes, my Lord. My deepest apologies." Sebastian said with a tiny bow, before approaching a nearby boulder and resting his foot upon it, opening a portal after a brief moment of silence. "I also apologize for any... disturbances that make occur between Mr. Spears and I. There certainly isn't any love lost between us, and he's being particularly obnoxious today."

"As long as you don't kill him or interrupt my conversation with Undertaker, I don't care." Ciel said dryly as Sebastian carried him through the portal. Ciel's brow knitted with thought as he considered their next move, and he hardly heard Sebastian's cool response, nor did he see the minuscule, devious smirk cross the butler's lips.

"Yes, my Lord."

xxx

So sorry for the long period without updates and then such a short chapter. ;w; However, I suppose this is as good a time as any to say that yes, C&C is winding down, and I'll be surprised if it makes it to chapter 65 or 70. However, I am planning a sequel. :) I also want you guys to vote on names for that, too. I'm thinking "Web of Lies", "Siren Song of the Fallen" or "Silent Scream". Can't decide, and I need input! Go forth and vote/suggest! XD

(I will say I've been leaning toward "Siren Song of the Fallen", though, as it goes with the general idea of the sequel's plot. *wink wink*)


	52. Bickering

William stared, wide-eyed, at Undertaker, struck speechless by what the eons-old Shinigami had just told him. Undertaker, looking a tad pale from all his recent, rather draining conversing with the Gods, simply met his gaze with a slight, worried pursing of his lips. Ronald was seated on the edge of the bed, near Undertaker, his hand covering his mouth as his brow furrowed with thought. Grell was as silent as the other two as he slid down to the clean, polished wood floor to sit next to Undertaker, his arms twining around his lover's neck in an embrace that was both possessive and fearful. The news that Undertaker had just delivered frightened him, and the image of Undertaker's near-deadly sacrifice refused to leave his mind.

Undertaker slowly ran a hand through Grell's crimson tresses, soothing the redhead as he whimpered faintly and buried his face in the crook of Undertaker's neck, seeking reassurance that his lover was okay. William finally found his voice, which was dark and grim with concern, and Undertaker studied him seriously as his free hand found Grell's and intertwined their fingers with a single smooth movement.

"Something like this so soon after the battle? We wouldn't stand a chance." He breathed, sitting down heavily next to Ronald and being the only one who noticed when the blond subtly, lightly pat his back in a futile attempt to reassure him. William gently gave him an unnoticeable nudge, warning him not to let the other two on in the slightest, lest drastic consequences occur. Ronald immediately obeyed and drew away, though he was still giving William a very concerned look as the brunette continued his dark musing. "Souls suitable for transformation into a Shinigami are rather hard to come by. They must be young, strong, and wise of the world's cruelty when they die, as well as fairly free of extreme sin or impurity. Those young enough after often too naive, and those wise enough are often too old, and when you find a young, reality-wise soul, they're often those who have been forced to grow up on the streets and ended up as thieves and murderers. Needless to say, it's extremely difficult to get just the right cocktail, and you're lucky if you find one good soul every couple of years. There's absolutely no time to build the ranks back..."

"You're overlooking the fact that they said it would take place within the next century, William." Undertaker said pointedly, though he was looking unusually pessimistic himself. "It could happen within the next week or the next ninety-nine years. The point is, we may have some time to prepare and build up the ranks just enough to get us by. Besides, isn't the point of this to detect the problem before it becomes a major issue? We're aiming for elimination, not confrontation. Maybe we don't even need a hundred years."

"I'm not one to gamble with the word 'maybe'." William said bluntly, readjusting his glasses with his scythe, as was habit whenever he was thinking hard... or plotting... or even just breathing. "I don't like this. Not at all. Can't you coax them into giving us a more specific direction?"

"We're lucky we got a warning at all. The Gods said is was our reward for 'being such a tough little stitch'. They're notorious for being subtle and downright mind-boggling with things, even though everything always comes out as they say it will. Though the future is never set in stone, the Gods do have the general idea of what's going on, and they will sometimes throw us a bone for their own amusement or, in this case, as praise."

"Funny, considering how you always said that the Gods were the most disrespectful, childish beings you've ever met." William said dryly, and, true to his nature, Undertaker cracked his massive trademark grin, his fresh stitches no longer hindering him.

"Oh, they are, but they're not cruel so much as mischievous. I can relate." Undertaker chortled, hugging Grell close, beaming twice as much when he felt the redhead smile against his neck. "After all, the person most like us is the one that annoys us the most. It's why opposites attract, I suppose."

"That was rather narcissistic, saying the Gods are most like you."

"It is what it is."

William was just opening his mouth to tell him to stop being so cocky when a portal in the wall opposite opened, and Sebastian walked in coolly, Ciel carried bridal-style in his arms. Immediately, he and Sebastian locked eyes, and before he could stop himself, an irritated hiss escaped William's lips. Sebastian merely scowled in response and carefully set Ciel down before Undertaker, eying the crimson-haired Shinigami still clinging to the informant mistrustfully, as he, quite frankly, didn't trust Grell to not lash-out at the ex-earl. Grell, however, was ignoring Ciel and glaring bloody-murder at Sebastian, and Ronald moved as if to get up, but William caught his shoulder and kept him down, his voice somehow managing to stay even and fairly low, despite the obvious tension in the room.

"Once they're done, leave, and this time, do us all a favor and stay out." William said sharply to Sebastian, shooting Undertaker a look that quite clearly said _Make this quick, old man, lest I develop a hernia.._ Undertaker disentangled his fingers from Grell's fine crimson locks and waved William off, then replaced his hand on Grell's head, petting him as one would a cat as he focused his marvelous eyes on Ciel. Sebastian and William quietly resumed their glaring contest, with Ronald watching them both carefully, waiting for a chance to spring in and pay Sebastian back for the damage done before.

"How was your first meeting with the Gods, Mr. Phantomhive?" Undertaker said with an amused, sarcastic smile, though his eyes were rather dark as he considered the freshly-changed youth. "I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

"This isn't a time for joking, Undertaker." Ciel said dryly, his eyes flashing with discontentment as he scowled lightly at the Shinigami. "This is extremely serious."

"Don't take life too seriously, or you'll never get out alive. Trust me, I would know." Undertaker snickered, delighting in the way Ciel huffed and scowled harder, his small fangs sinking into his lower lip as his usually-short temper was tested. To be honest, Undertaker had always found him simply _hilarious _whenever he got flustered, and he never passed up the chance to push Ciel's buttons just a little bit.

"If you're just going to sit here and blather like an infant," Ciel said, crossing his arms and drawing himself up to his full height... which really wasn't as impressive as the boy was hoping, to say the least. "I'll take my leave."

"Oh, no no no, do stay, otherwise we may all die." Undertaker said, quirking one fine silver eyebrow and tilting his head to the side, a manic smile still pressing up the corners of his mouth. "Isn't that what you came here to prevent in the first place?"

"Indeed, which is why I don't appreciate your senseless dribble. Now, get on with it."

"Well, my dear Ciel, it seems the only real way we can 'solve' this right now is to merely sit about and try to philosophically decipher what we've been told. Until the problem rears its ugly head, there's really not much else we can do besides twiddle our thumbs and keep our eyes peeled for any signs of a problem at all, just so we can prevent it. It's frustratingly hopeless, don't you think?"

Ciel watched with obvious disdain as the grin spread further across Undertaker's face, as though they were having an amusing discussion about kittens, and not a morbid, disheartening talk about how they were currently Fate's bitch. The Shinigami never seemed to change, which was both a blessing and a curse; on one hand, it was refreshing to see that one thing remained certain no matter how busy the world may get, and that thing was Undertaker's grin. On the other, he never seemed to take anything seriously until the last possible moment, and it meant that he was practically useless when it came to serious planning.

"Well, then, I suppose we should write down what was said, and go from there." Ciel said dryly, looking highly unimpressed with the indestructible grin on Undertaker's face.

"Williaaam~?"

William reluctantly broke off the toxic scowl he'd been sharing with Sebastian and glanced at Undertaker, who raised his overlarge sleeves and shrugged, still with that giant smile on his face. William scoffed, tucked his scythe under his arm, and reached into his inner-jacket, pulling out a small notebook and a miniature pencil from a hidden pocket. His brow knit sternly as he flipped open the notebook and quickly flipped through several used pages until he reached a clean one, his pencil poised to write whatever was said next.

"You should really come better prepared." William said dryly, pushing up his glasses with the end of his pencil. Undertaker snickered, and William gave him an expectant look, wondering what in the hell was so funny _now._

"That's what we have you and Sebastian for." Undertaker giggled, and William shot a look over to Sebastian, who was also holding a pocket-sized notebook and matching pencil. A cocky smirk was implanted on his lips as their eyes locked, and William realized that they were toe-to-toe as far as keeping track of things went. He'd have to work a little harder if he wanted to get the best of Michaelis just yet.

Fine by him.

"'Within the next hundred orbits of Earth, a sequence of events that will make the Realms tremble to their very roots will take place.'" Ciel recited, and nothing but the busy, hurried _scritch scritch_'ing of pencils on unsoiled paper could be heard as the rivals raced each other to the end of each sentence. "'A single black soul will be the end of all of you. It will be driven by the Seven Sins, but it will be pure of body. It will be the black widow that lures you into its web of lies with a sweet smile and a soft whisper as it caresses your cheek and beckons you toward demise. It will be everything you have ever prepared for, and yet, you cannot stop it once it fixes its lips on yours and rips out your breath with a single kiss made of steel teeth. If you wish to save your single stitch in the vast fabric of the Universe, be warned, as you should always be careful to scent the wind, even when it blows the wrong way. Take this knowledge and use it to your advantage, or suffer the consequences; it is your choice, and keep in mind, the future is not set in stone, though certain paths are the only ones paved.'"

A few seconds after Ciel's voice stopped echoing about the silent room, William and Sebastian closed their notebooks at the same instant, and both shot frustrated scowls at the other. They'd finished at the exact same second, and the race had ended in a draw, proving yet again that the two were of infuriatingly equal ability.

Undertaker's amused giggling was the only thing that broke the silence as William disengaged his glare on Sebastian and instead looked at Ronald, who was standing and heading for the door, his arms raised above his head as he stretched.

"Where are you going?" William asked, doing his best to sound bored, though he was honestly a tad surprised to see Ronald leaving the room, as he knew Ronald was still itching for a chance to get back at Sebastian and was probably still feeling rather protective.

"Oh, I just remembered that I still need to take down the laundry, I'll be right back." Ronald said cheerily, walking past Sebastian and earning a dirty look from the demon as he went. William didn't miss the subtle yet perfect way Ronald purposely stepped on Sebastian's foot as he passed, however, and he sure as hell didn't miss it when Sebastian promptly stuck his foot out and tripped the youth, nearly making him sprawl out on his face.

Oh, so Ronald was starting fights. Normally, William would have had his position suspended and his quota doubled, but since it was _Michaelis_ they were dealing with, he'd pretend that he hadn't seen anything. What respectable Shinigami doesn't try to beat the utter shit out of a demon at any given chance, anyway?

It wasn't hard to be a tad surprised when Ronald forgot all fight-foreplay and, instead, promptly sucker-punched the demon just as he had been punched minutes before. Within half a second, Sebastian had recovered from his recoil and pounced on the blond. He easily pinned the Shinigami to the floor, one hand holding him down by the throat, the other raising above his head and forming a fist as he prepared to smash Ronald's face in.

Okay, time to take things down a notch.

William was just standing to intervene, his body maneuvering around Undertaker, Grell, and Ciel as the trio fled and seated themselves on the bed, out of harm's way, when Sebastian struck out. He was just wondering how long he'd have to spend piecing Ronald's face back together when he realized that the sickening _crrrNCH_ he'd heard was the sound of a hole being punched into the hardwood floor, not his boyfriend, thank the Gods. It would have been very messy to clean up the mess _that_ would have caused.

That mess being, of course, what remained of Sebastian Michaelis when William got through with him for having the gall to hurt Ronald.

Ronald had somehow managed to squirm away just enough to avoid the blow, and Sebastian yelped as the blond promptly sunk his teeth into Sebastian's hand. His slender fingers, previously so gentle as they had rubbed deliciously, delicately into William's body, were now clawing and scrabbling frantically at Sebastian's hand, trying their damnedest to pry the demon off. Sebastian hardly seemed to notice, however, and William saw red when there was a small shout of pain from Ronald as Sebastian had dug his knee roughly into the boy's stomach, his nails tearing into the flesh of Ronald's throat and drawing a few beads of blood. Ronald, forced to release his hold on Sebastian, squirmed and gasped for air, his vision whiting out as he rapidly began to run out of oxygen.

Grell let out an angry hiss from William's side, and Undertaker wrapped a restraining arm around Grell and grabbed William's hand just as he was about to pull the trigger of his scythe and skewer Sebastian like a piece of fruit on a kabob. William shot him a furious glare as Ciel spoke up, his voice raised and stern, sadly ending any chance of vengeance William might have had at that point.

"Sebastian, that's quite enough. We've got enough to worry about without your temper muddling things further. Release him."

Sebastian hesitated, scowling down at Ronald in such a way that said that, if Ciel weren't there to intervene, the youth would have had the consistency of applesauce by now. Ronald returned the look, though he was still gasping for air like a goldfish that had been removed from its bowl. Sebastian finally released him and stood, walking to Ciel as Ronald rolled to his hands and knees and began to cough, a few rivulets of blood trailing down his neck. William narrowed his eyes murderously at Sebastian as the demon passed, dearly wishing that he could rip the demon's head from where it was perched upon the stately, haughty neck. How d_are_ he lay his filthy hands on Ronald...

"I'll be taking my leave to think this over in quiet, as it seems that neither side can control themselves and give me the peace I need. Besides, I want a nap." Ciel said matter-of-factly, as though nothing at all had just happened, and the Shinigami around him actually gave a damn. "Undertaker, do keep in touch, and come to me immediately if you find anything of significance."

"Will do!" Undertaker said cheerily, finally releasing the restricting hold he had on William's hand. "Take care, now."

"The same." Ciel said dryly, frankly sounding like he didn't really care whether or not the Shinigami really _did _take care. His face was blank and bored as Sebastian scooped him up and walked toward the wall, his shoulder resting against it as he began to open a portal back to Hell.

"I'm glad to see you're well again, Mr. Spears." Sebastian said pleasantly, his voice slathered with that bittersweet-sarcasm once more. "You're in much better shape than when I had to carry you back to this very room. Ah, yes, you were a royal mess, please be more careful next time. Ta-ta, now." Sebastian said sweetly as the portal opened and he slipped inside, a grumpy Ciel giving him as exasperated look, as even the bickering ceased to amuse him by this point, and simply grated his nerves further instead.

Sebastian glanced back over his shoulder as the Library vanished behind him, and the horrified look on William's face was all the victory he needed.


	53. Caught

Ronald shakily rose to his feet, his hands clutched to the shallow scrapes on his throat as he stemmed the gentle flow of blood. His chest moved in quick pants as he caught his breath, and he winced in pain and disgust as his neck began to throb painfully; damn demons...

He was starting to see why William hated them so. Even if he _had_ started the fight, it wasn't a reason for Sebastian to nearly crack his skull back open, and the demon had had it coming, anyway. No one touched William and Grell without having a bone to pick with Ronald afterward. (Well, except maybe Undertaker, but he and Ronald had become surprisingly good friends despite the initial tension, and Ronald knew that the ancient Shinigami wouldn't hurt them. Besides, he didn't _dare _piss him off; Undertaker had a temper that could put a rabid cobra to shame.)

He glanced to William in question, and he immediately noticed the radiating shudder of disgust that trembled throughout his superior's entire body. William stared in hollow shock at the wall, another shiver wracking his body as the demon's conquering words sank in. Slowly, he turned on his heel and approached Ronald, his face unreadable.

Oh, shit.

Ronald was in for it now. He had been the one to ask for help with William, afterall...

"William, wait, I can-" He began hurriedly, raising his hands to defend any slaps that may be aimed in his direction. He ended up, instead, blinking in immense surprise when William strode by without even a glance in his direction, as though the blond didn't even exist. "...Explain?"

William opened the door and walked briskly out into the hallway, no sound but the steady, fading footfalls of his perfectly polished shoes breaking the stunned silence as he moved away. Ronald stared, hard, then looked down at the blood on his hand, not able to help but feel a bit rueful that William didn't seem to acknowledge his injuries. Still, that took the back seat to his shock and sudden, overwhelming had more pride in his little finger than what Ronald had in his entire body, and hearing his arch rival reveal something like that must have been like getting kicked in the proverbial balls. Ouch.

Undertaker let out a low whistle, and Grell and Ronald both turned and looked at him. They appeared equally flabbergasted, though Ronald looked far more concerned, and Undertaker merely shook his head in response, a tiny frown on his face.

"That isn't going to roll over well. You should make sure he doesn't do anything drastic, like set that butler on fire or something." Undertaker said lightly, tapping his chin with one finger as he considered the youth with contemplative, majestic eyes. "He's inclined enough to do it as it is, he certainly doesn't need more incentive!"

"Poor Will." Grell cooed in agreement, wrapping his arms around Undertaker from behind and setting his chin on the top of his head. "He's getting all stressed out again. I hope he doesn't wear himself out and catch another fever. That's just what he _doesn't_ need."

"I'll go make sure his brain doesn't leak out of his ear or something." Ronald said with a frown, rubbing the back of his head as he trotted out the door after William, his mind now occupied with the need to make sure William didn't lose his marbles. "Will?"

Undertaker shook his head fondly, if with a touch of disbelief, as the door squealed closed. He then leaned back his head and nuzzled affectionately along Grell's jaw, his hand sweeping up and brushing over his lover's cheek, his other sliding slowly up Grell's thigh now that he was sure that they were alone. Grell giggled softly and laid a hand over either of Undertaker's, eagerly welcoming his advances and not seeming to mind the less-than-secure setting in the slightest.

"Did you notice?" Grell whispered excitedly, wriggling happily against Undertaker, who no longer felt anything but a mild ache in his back, which was really no worse than a large bruise. He certainly preferred it to the stabbing, wretched pains he'd had before, so he made no protest as Grell's slight movements caused a small amount of pain. Indeed, he was simply satisfied with the fact that Grell was content enough to be wiggling around like a schoolgirl once more, and mildly curious as to what Grell might be dragging up.

"Notice what, m'lady?" Undertaker purred back, smirking at the way Grell's skin heated with blush as Undertaker slowly licked along the side of his neck, his eyes lidded lazily as he gently squeezed Grell's thigh at the same time. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Will totally has a crush on Ronnie! I can tell!"

Undertaker somehow managed to choke on his own breath of air, and he coughed into his hand several times, undeniably shell-shocked at Grell's completely accurate observation. He looked back up at Grell with wide, surprised eyes, their emerald depths glimmering with astounded amusement. Grell grinned in response, taking it as confirmation, and Undertaker returned the gesture, his own crescent smile splitting his face. He was one of-if not the only-few people who was completely undisturbed by Grell's shark-like smiles. In fact, he loved them, as it usually meant the redhead was up to something interesting, and it always meant that he was happy. Others may have found it creepy, but Undertaker found it beautiful.

Truth be told, he found many eerie things beautiful, but that was beside the point; Grell was special in the way that he was the eerily-beautiful thing that Undertaker would never grow tired of gazing at.

"Okay, you rascal, how did you know?" Undertaker teased playfully, grabbing Grell and tugging him into his lap, earning a small squeal of mild protest in return. Undertaker smirked, and his fingers ran over Grell's sides, gently tickling him and making him writhe gently. Grell's helpless laughter filled the room, and it was pure, sweet music to Undertaker's ears; his darling needed some smiles after all he'd been through, and Undertaker was more than happy to oblige.

"A l-lady always kn-knows!" Grell laughed helplessly, grabbing at Undertaker's wrists and holding his hands back, his head slumping against his lover's chest as he continued to giggle loudly, making Undertaker's smile grow all the wider. "Ronnie's obviously been swooning over him for the _longest_ time! It's about time that stick-in-the-mud noticed! What idiot couldn't notice the way Will got all extra-protective, huh? And don't think I didn't notice when they went missing from the party last night!"

Undertaker chuckled and hugged Grell close, giving him a gentle, affectionate squeeze, marveling at how Grell managed to amuse him to no end, even if the redhead didn't even mean to. He placed one finger under the slender jaw of his lover and tilted his head back, kissing the end of his nose and delighting in the pink, flattered flush that colored Grell's cheeks at the small gesture. Grell smiled and wiggled closer to him, like a puppy who'd grown fond of a child's gentle petting and wanted more contact.

He was simply _too_ adorable.

"Of course they do, how foolish of me." Undertaker purred, stroking his nose along Grell's jaw before giving his ear a small, teasing nip, making the younger Shinigami tense with anticipation. "That was quite a stupid question, wasn't it?"

"Very." Grell agreed darkly, crossing his arms and pouting his lips playfully, doing his best not to squirm with delight as Undertaker continued to tease his ear. "How dare you insult my female intuition! That's not very gentlemanly at all!"

"My deepest apologies, m'lady." Undertaker breathed, his tongue slipping out and tracing the shell of his ear, making Grell gasp softly and twitch in his arms. "How can I _possibly_ make it up to you...?"

Grell knew exactly what Undertaker was getting at, and he had no complaints at all to the innuendo, or even the thought of doing it right there on the infirmary bed. He was just about to say exactly what Undertaker wanted him to say when he stopped, checking himself. Why should he give in to Undertaker's subtle request? Why not lead him on a bit more, make him wait and beg for it? He wasn't _quite_ through with playing dominatrix just yet, anyway...

Besides, dragging it out would mean that Undertaker would have to up the severity of his "punishment".

Therefore, Grell saw no reason not to be a complete and utter smartass.

"Hmmm... How about the four of us going out on a nice picnic lunch?" He said sweetly, purposely leaning away from Undertaker and getting his ears out of the way of any more possible teasing. "It's a gorgeous day outside, you know, it would be a shame to waste it."

Undertaker stopped and stared at him, opening his mouth to protest, or possibly suggest some much lewder activities, then closing it again as words failed him. Grell wasn't normally one to turn down a bit of "rough housing", so Undertaker was highly surprised to have him suggesting something so innocent.

That is, until he caught the mischievous glint in Grell's eye, and a small smirk tugged up the corners of his mouth, letting Grell know what he was thinking without really meaning to.

_I'm on to you, Sutcliff, even if it's not in the literal sense just yet._ Undertaker's eyes seemed to respond as a brief flash of understanding lit them. However, he managed to subdue the coy tone that tried to work itself into his voice, and instead, he made his own equally innocent and cheery. They both knew what the other was thinking, but to any watching bystander, it would have seemed like an utterly harmless conversation.

"That can be arranged, m'lady." He said, chucking Grell under the chin affectionately, though his nail gently scraped against the porcelain flesh, promising much fun with what was to come. "What would you like to bring along?"

Grell smiled and wrapped his arms around Undertaker's neck, pulling himself closer to kiss the silver-haired Shinigami's lips, pleasantly surprising the older male. He closed his eyes and gently breathed against Undertaker's lips, his voice neither seductive or teasing, but, instead, brimming with loving honesty.

"You."

The two fell into their kiss without hesitation, momentarily forgetting the outside world.

000

Ronald trotted after William, his neck still stinging uncomfortably from the damage Sebastian's claws had inflicted, no matter how mild it was. He rubbed at his neck, smears of blood still covering his tanned skin, and wished that he could go back in time about ten minutes and punch Sebastian all over again. Partly because he wanted revenge for his own injuries, but mostly because Sebastian seemed to have caused William to have some rather severe, sudden emotional trauma. Just judging by William's ramrod-straight back and his stiff, nervous walk, he was not taking it well at all.

"Will?" He asked tentatively, his hand laying against William's upper-arm as he finally managed to catch up with his stiff-legged superior, who was walking so quickly that Ronald's slightly shorter legs were having a bit of trouble keeping up. "Where are you going?"

"To thoroughly wash myself with a cheese grater and some sulfuric acid." William said seriously, rapidly approaching his bedroom door. "And then to burn the clothes I'd been wearing at the time with the hottest fire I can manage."

"Don't you think you're overreacting? Just a little bit?" Ronald asked, dancing in front of him and laying a hand on either of his shoulders. William stopped immediately to avoid running Ronald right over, his hard eyes flicking down to meet Ronald's, which were wide with concern. William felt a small pang in his chest at the cute, slightly sexy way Ronald's fingers gently worked into his shoulders, trying to help relax him, but only serving to get him even more wound up; in a completely different way, of course.

"I think I'm _under_-reacting." William said bluntly, gently batting Ronald's hands away before the little touches could get the better of him. His voice was much lower when he spoke again, and this time, it had a coaxing, almost begging note, his eyes softening a fraction and proving his earnesty. "And _please_ try to restrain yourself, for the love of the Gods... You know what I told you, I'm not comfortable with PDA."

"Sorry!" Ronald said, quickly removing his hands from William's shoulders, unable to stop himself from feeling a tad stung, though he knew William was being as kind about it as he knew how. He couldn't help but wonder why William didn't want to make their relationship known; granted, they were still very much a new pair, but sometimes the way he said it made Ronald feel like William might be embarrassed, even _ashamed_ of him.

He managed to push aside his jostled feelings with a bit of difficulty, and chewed his lip instead, still blocking William's path and making the older Shinigami remain in place. "Still, you're getting all tensed up again... Just look at you." Ronald said, his eyes scanning William head-to-toe, his practiced eyes able to detect the tension in every muscle. "You're the poster-child for stress, Will..."

"I couldn't care less at this point." William said, stepping around Ronald and heading for his room, his words ringing with an air of finality that said he was through discussing it.

For once, however, Ronald wasn't taking "no" for an answer.

William jolted to a stop as Ronald seized his tie, and he suddenly found himself tugged along as the youth towed him toward his room once again, just as he had the night before. The door had, apparently, been left unlocked, as Ronald seized the doorknob and pushed the it open immediately and without hesitation. William hissed softly with irritation as Ronald pulled him inside, his face flushing slightly as he realized that he was just about to end up where he'd been the night before... and, most likely, with the same consequences.

"Ronald!" He snapped, managing to pull away just as the blond shut the door, his lips set in a determined line. "I'm serious, I'm not in the mood for games, I-"

"You're not the only one who's serious about this, Will. Do you know how hard it was to work all those knots out of your back? And now you're working yourself up over nothing and erasing all my hard work." Ronald said bluntly, crossing his arms and pouting at the elder, who was speechless with shock at the fact that Ronald was talking back to him, much less pulling a move that immediately put him in mind of Grell. "That's kinda selfish, and It's making me worry. Besides, what if you get sick again? You'll get all flushed... flustered... and it'll ruin all my hard work..."

"What are you getting at?" William said tensely, though he was pretty sure he had an idea as Ronald locked the door behind him with a quick flick of his wrist, then rapidly closed the distance between them, a slight, suggestive roll of his gait as he moved forward, his eyes flashing with an unnamed emotion as he prowled toward William. Ronald knew William was watching, and a tiny, seductive smirk perched itself upon his lips as he reached William, his arms slinking up and twining around his superior's neck, pulling them closer together. He nuzzled William's cheek, a small, amused noise purring from his throat as he felt the skin beneath him heat and color.

"Just that you should take a bath, put your feet up, take a nap... let me help you relax, unwind..." He breathed huskily against his cheek, knowing that William was all-ears, just by the way the elder Shinigami relaxed his shoulders slightly and leaned just the faintest amount forward, bringing them marginally closer. "Though, not necessarily in that order..."

Ronald turned his head to press their lips together, but his eyes widened with surprise when William's hands were suddenly pressing against his chest and pushing him away slightly, firm, though not particularly forceful. He stared at William, his shock rapidly delving into hurt as William appraised him with cold, unfriendly eyes. William's eyes narrowed the faintest amount as they met Ronald's, and Ronald felt a small pang of panic; oh Gods, he'd gone too far and completely ruined everything, hadn't he...? His mind continued whipping through scenarios at light speed, trying to find something to say to correct the situation and coming up short again and again, sending him spiraling further down into a blur of panic.

That is, until William spoke again.

"Go brush your teeth, and then I'll kiss you." He said authoritatively, removing his hands from Ronald's chest and crossing his arms, his death scythe clinking slightly from where it was stored inside his jacket. He didn't look pissed so much as mildly disgruntled, which was basically the norm for William and not really anything to worry about.

"Eh?" Ronald's confused, barely coherent reply answered, making William's slight scowl turn into a mild glare. Ronald was too surprised to even be hurt by the dirty look, and he could only stare as William pointed a finger commandingly toward the bathroom.

"You bit him. I have no idea where that demon's been, and frankly, I don't want to know, but I'm not kissing you until I _know_ that your mouth isn't contaminated by his filth."

Ronald couldn't help but start laugh at that, and the glare William was giving him doubled in intensity, as he clearly didn't find it nearly as amusing. William didn't make a single sound, and instead simply continued to scowl at Ronald for a long moment, until Ronald's brief bout of laughter finally came to an abrupt and rather awkward end as the blond coughed into his hand to hide the last half-hearted "heh heh...".

"...You're serious, aren't you?"

"Was I ever one to joke?"

"...Point taken."

William rolled his eyes with exasperation as Ronald stepped around him and headed for the back of the suite, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling with rather indignant bafflement, his cheeks a light pink with embarrassment. William watched him with eyes as sharp as flint as the blond opened the bathroom door and spared one last glance back him, looking half amused, half disbelieving that William's hatred of demons actually went _that_ far. Even he wouldn't have guessed it...

"You're just making yourself wait longer by standing there and gawking." William said dryly, walking a few feet over and sitting on the edge of Ronald's desk, still watching the youth expectantly. "Or, did you change your mind?" He asked casually, crossing his ankles and quirking at eyebrow at him expectantly. "Because I'd enjoy a bath right now."

"Fine, fine..." Ronald chuckled softly, slipping into the bathroom without further complaint, as he'd finally decided that William's paranoia was more cute than annoying. "But I still think you're being a bit melodramatic."

"And I think that you should remember who you're talking to." William said sternly, shooting an unseen glare at the bathroom door to emphasize his point. "Just because you've been promoted on both a business and personal level does not mean that you can suddenly go about saying whatever you please, Mr. Knox."

"Yes, Sir." Ronald said cheerily from the bathroom, not really seeming to take it all that seriously, as he sounded more playful than anything. "Sorry Sir."

William made no response, and the suite fell into silence as Ronald brushed and William waited, a tad impatiently, for his own turn in the bathroom. To make Ronald learn his lesson and drop his sudden cockiness, William was going to make him wait a little longer for anything intimate, even for something as simple as a kiss. Just because he'd let the kid have his way the night before didn't mean that he suddenly had all-exclusive pass to do whatever he wanted, and William was going to make sure that the message got across, nice and clear.

He wasn't anyone's bitch. No sir, he wasn't a uke, nor exactly a seme. He'd settle for a nice, equal seke relationship, thank you, and that meant that Ronald was going to have to tone it down on the innuendo if he wanted to have any fun in the near future.

As his mind wandered idly over these thoughts, William's eyes absently scanned over Ronald's desk, taking in the odds and ends that were set atop it. Several books, a folder here, a few papers there... William's eyes, half-lidded with mild boredom, came to rest on one paper in particular.

Wait.

Wait just one goddamn minute.

William's eyes flew wide open, and he snatched the paper up immediately, his heart thundering like a wild horse as his eyes scanned over it. His breath left him as his fear was quickly confirmed. Several things that he'd been worrying over suddenly fell into place all at once, giving him the unsettling sensation of both being extremely satisfied while simultaneously wanting to commit a murder-suicide.

He was on his feet with a split second, and he stalked toward the bathroom door, his gait as purposeful as it was quick and full of wrath. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, not entirely open, but William quickly fixed that when his newly-healed leg swept out and kicked the door wide open.

Ronald, who was in the middle of cleansing his toothbrush and putting it away, jumped a mile, his eyes flying wide open as he saw the murderous look on William's face. He himself paled slightly, wondering what the hell was going on, and he had the sudden urge to duck around William and run like hell.

Before he could properly comprehend what the hell was happening, William's hands were on his shoulders, and he was pushed roughly back against the wall, his head thudding back against it and sending a mild throb of pain to his temples. The toothbrush fell from his hand and clattered quietly against the floor, the noise immediately drowned out by William's furious hiss.

"You went through my desk, didn't you?"


	54. Whoops

"Wha-"

_"This."_

Ronald went cross-eyed as the paper was shoved in his face, and William's body moved a little bit closer, still trapping him against the wall, but now pressing just the slightest bit against him. It was rather difficult for Ronald to try and read the neatly written yet faded words on the paper, which was so old that it had yellowed with age and had a few crimps and creases here and there, despite belonging to the ever-neat William. However, once his dual-green eyes deciphered the first few words and he realized just what it was, he paled slightly and looked up at William, who was glaring darkly back down at him.

"You have five seconds to explain, and I suggest that you do so, before I get _really_ angry." William hissed, and Ronald thought his heart would stop.

Ronald gulped, his eyes darting from side to side as he searched for any possible means of escape. William, seeing this, readjusted himself once more, pressing Ronald even further back against the wall with the sheer force of his body. Ronald, knowing that he had no hope of getting away, hesitantly met William's eyes once more, his own silently begging for mercy.

"I found your k-key in your jacket while you were still out." Ronald began, his voice rasping slightly as William's eyes narrowed, silently commanding him to continue. "I was cleaning out your pockets so I could take your clothes back to my room and fix them up and get them washed later. I put your gloves and tie in there because, you know, they're clothes and it was the best way to keep track of-"

"Stay on topic, Knox."

Ronald flinched at William's low growl sounded from above, and he pressed harder against the wall, wishing he could phase right through it, just so he could get away from those eyes, which were glinting in a deadly way that Ronald, to his puzzlement, found attractive.

"Sorry... Well, I found the key and I figured it probably went to something in your room, you know, since it has your name engraved on it and all..." He cringed again as William's low growl warned him to explain why he needed to go in his room in the first place, and Ronald's voice was rushed and almost panicky when he spoke again. "The sheet you were using to keep track of everyone wasn't enough. You and I both know that all the names on it take up two and a half pages of paper, but the third page was missing. I let Grell keep an eye on your for a few minutes, and I went to go look for it, because I couldn't for the life of me remember, like, five or six names and there wasn't a spare scrap of paper in sight, anyway. Your door was unlocked, and I looked around in the filing cabinets first," He slid down the wall slightly as William subconsciously leaned forward, the fury in his eyes increasing. "Then the top of the desk," He slid down another inch or so, fearing what seemed to be his imminent death. "Then I tried to open the drawers, but they were locked, so I tried the key..."

"Go on." William hissed as Ronald was reduced to sitting on the floor, William crouching over him, like a wild beast about to rip a defenseless child to shreds. "Humor me."

"Most of them were either empty or didn't have what I was looking for, so I locked them back up, but when I got to the second-to-last one, there was a folder, so I looked through it, you know, because I still needed that paper. I kinda skimmed over the first page that was inside, and it wasn't what I was expecting, but it _was_ really good, so I read it again, and, well... You're a really talented poet, Will."

"Flattery will get you nowhere in this situation." William grunted, though Ronald saw his cheeks flush faintly, but whether is was from the compliment or anger, he couldn't tell. "Anything else?"

"...I found the third paper?" Ronald squeaked, hoping against hope that his answer would suffice.

"How about explaining _why you took my poem?"_

Apparently not.

"...Because it seemed like a very fitting thing to teach everyone and have them recite at the funeral."

The look on William's face was like that of someone who'd just had an anuerysm.

Ronald saw his chance, and he dived to the side, managing to get through a small gap in William's defense in the single second he had. He tried to aim for the now-open door so he could-hopefully-get his feet under him and head for the hills, but his small bout of luck rapidly ran out. William caught his ankles in midair, dragging him down immediately, and Ronald's breath left him with an _"oomf!"_ as his chest took most of the impact of his body smacking into the floor.

"You did _what?"_ William snapped with such ferocity that Ronald was sure for a brief second that the man was about to break his ankles, which were still tightly clutched in his hands. Instead, William forcibly dragged him back over, not bothered by the fact that Ronald was clawing at the floor and trying to find a good hold to haul himself away once more. They both knew the effort was futile, and in a last, desperate attempt to save his skin, Ronald began to beg.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It just fit so well, and it went beautifully with the funeral, I couldn't pass it up! I'll keep my mouth shut! I'll behave! I'll... I'll work overtime! Just-"

He was suddenly flipped over, and he gasped in shock as William's mouth suddenly smothered his own, cutting off his abruptly cutting of his rapid-fire string of pleads and apologies. Ronald's cheeks flushed hotly as William took advantage of the gasp and began to explore Ronald's mouth with vigorous, almost rough movements of his tongue. The kiss was quick and forceful, but despite the short time, William was savoring the slightly minty taste that lingered within the hot orifice, and the feeling of the harsh metal stud contrasting so wonderfully against his own tongue. Ronald shuddered softly, going limp as he submitted to William's sudden, bizarre show of affection, his limbs turning to jelly as he rushed to join into the kiss.

After a few seconds, William pulled away, letting out a small breath of air, pleased at the sight of Ronald's startled, flushed expression. Ronald, his eyes huge and his hair slightly more tousled than usual, stared at William as though he'd sprouted feathered wings and had begun singing "Pop Goes the Weasel" at the top of his voice. William scowled lightly back at him, his eyes hard and his voice stern when he spoke again.

"Now that I've gotten you to shut up, Knox, let me just say that I'm absolutely furious with you, and I would have expected better of my vice-president." William said, raising one hand from its position at the side of Ronald's head to flick his nose, making the younger Shinigami flinch. Ronald's face fell, and William couldn't help but feel a touch guilty at the ashamed, saddened look that drown out the adorable, rosy blush. Ronald always took criticism a little harder than he should, and simple scolding from someone he respected could sometimes lead him to small bouts of depression.

"I know, I know, it was wrong..." Ronald said softly, turning his head away and refusing to meet William's eyes, his own heavy with guilt. "But it was such a lucky find, and it was so perfect for the entire situation... I'm sorry, Will, I really am... If it makes you feel any better, I didn't tell anyone where I got it..."

In truth, that made William feel _much_ better, as a tsunami of relief immediately washed over him. Poetry was a hobby of his, something that helped him ease the loneliness of the many dark nights he spent alone in his office, scared to sleep, lest his usual, unpleasant dreams plague him. It was like doodling with words, and it often helped him take his mind off of things. Most of his little musings were thrown away (or, more accurately, used as kindling for the fireplace) but the ones he was fond or proud of were stored away in the folder of his bottom drawer, safely tucked away in the folder beneath the desk. William was absolutely _terrified_ of someone getting in there and exposing his dirty little secret; though others may have thought it harmless, the fact that someone could use it to prove that he wasn't a _complete_ hardass and that he did have a few, _tiny_ weaker points would have destroyed what little respect he had. Therefore, the key was always with him, and the drawer was only a few guard dogs and barb-wire fences short of being completely impenetrable.

Still, though knowing that Ronald-the same person he'd given himself to and had trusted to a certain degree for quite a long time now-had been the only one to get into the drawer, he was still antsy. He wasn't one to go out trusting his secrets to just anyone, and those he _did_ trust very rarely ever got to learn about the skeletons in his closet. Having Ronald find out without his consent made William nervous, and he couldn't help but be paranoid that the blond would do something they'd both regret. He loved Ronald, but he was suspicious by nature, and they were still just getting used to each other; this was sudden and rather unwelcome, to say the least.

"You should be glad for your sake that you didn't." William growled softly. "Then you would have been in serious trouble. Worse than what you're in now. Breaking into _anyone's_ desk is a violation of personal privacy and confidentiality among the staff; breaking into the Head Shinigami's desk is just asking to get fired and possibly imprisoned."

Ronald's eyes went wide then, and William felt the youth's entire body tense beneath him, as though he was expecting to get demoted then and there. William suppressed the urge to roll his eyes; as if he could afford to do that right now, as they were so very short on staff, and in all honesty, he'd never _actually_ fired anyone to begin with.

As if he'd do that to Ronald, anyway.

Still, the way Ronald was so tense beneath him, the way his eyes were filled with guilt and apprehension and sadness... William blinked; Ronald looked extremely upset, as if William was not just about to take away his status as a Shinigami, but break off their relationship as well. It was this combined with his fondness, which was so unusually strong for William, that made him crack. He needed to get that smile he found that he was coming to love back on Ronald's face, and to do it, he did something that he would normally never do with anyone; he told Ronald what was on his mind.

"However,"

Ronald blinked as William took his chin between his fingers and tilted his head to the side, gently forcing the youth to meet his eyes once more. Ronald gulped and tried to pull away, looking twice as nervous, but William held him firmly in place, leaning in until his breath gently fanned over Ronald's face. It worked like a charm; the youth relaxed and parted his lips slightly, subconsciously; craving more of the close contact.

Craving more of William.

"I must admit that I'm glad it was you and not someone else who found it, Knox. You've certainly proved yourself to be trustworthy thus far, I'm going to go out on a limb and trust you to keep your mouth shut about this, too." William said softly, holding Ronald back by the same grip on his jaw when the blond tried to lean up and turn the close-contact into an actual kiss. Ronald squirmed the slightest amount, obviously frustrated as William continued; he was obviously wanting nothing more than to pounce on the older Shinigami. "However, breathe a single word to anyone, about _anything_ that's gone on between us, and I'm going to outright _murder_ you. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Ronald mumbled, trying to appear as harmless as possible so William would let him go and he could finally get the kiss he wanted so desperately. "Yes, we're clear. I'm not stupid, Willi, I know you like your privacy. I told anyone who asked me that _I _wrote it, okay? I swear."

"Well, anyone who's ever read one of your reports would know otherwise. You couldn't spell to save your life." William snorted dryly, and Ronald couldn't help but grin and giggle in agreement.

"I try, I really do."

"To what? Run my ink well dry? I spend a lot of time correcting those reports, you know. If you're going to be vice-president, you'd better learn the 'i before e' rule, among other things."

Ronald laughed in earnest this time, and he saw the corner of William's mouth twitch as the brown-haired Shinigami finally let his chin go. Without missing a beat, Ronald quickly propped himself up on his elbows, leaning forward and connecting their lips in a hungry, needing kiss that was half thank-you, half apology. William complied with the blond, unable to resist the soft, practiced lips and the way they managed to capture him every single time. He relished the feel of the warm stud as it explored every part of his mouth, and the way Ronald fell back so eagerly against the bathroom tile as William pressed further into the kiss, gently forcing him down as he tried to get as much of him as possible.

He tensed in surprise when he felt Ronald's rigid length suddenly pressing against his thigh, and he pulled away from the blond, both of them panting slightly from the force of the kiss. William glanced down to the pronounced bulge in the youth's pants, then back up at Ronald, his eyebrow quirking at the suggestive display. Ronald flushed slightly, but as William felt his slender fingers at his neck, he decided then that he could always take a bath afterwards...

Or, perhaps, even w_ith_ Ronald...

"Really?" William questioned smoothly, trying to ignore the stirring warmth in his own loins as Ronald's fingers rubbed at him through the high collar. "You're pinned against the wall by someone who may or may not want to kill you, after being caught red-handed with evidence that you violated their personal space, and you still managed to get hot and bothered?"

"That's the reason I _am_ hot and bothered." Ronald groaned, shifting slightly and making his need brush against William's still-awakening arousal, causing William to firm up quite a bit. "Grell's right; you're even sexier when you're angry..." He mumbled, leaning up to kiss the end of William's nose, a small, loving smile on his lips as he teased the older reaper. "Especially with your glasses off..."

William felt his face flush slightly at the compliment, but his voice was as cold and dry as usual as he responded evenly, as though there wasn't the impending promise of getting laid in his very-near future.

"Is that why he always strives to annoy me?"

"Pretty much."

Ronald was just starting to fiddle with William's tie when the elder Shinigami gently pushed him back, a hand on the blond's chest to pin him down. Ronald stared up at him, looking mildly surprised, his eyebrow quirking suggestively. He looked extremely seductive like that, but despite having the urge to just put things aside and pay full attention to their full needs at the moment, William had one final thing he needed to settle.

"Just one moment, Ronald. If you have my missing paper, where's the key?"

Ronald blinked in honest surprise, his hand still loosely gripping the top of William's tie, keeping them in very close quarters. Neither of them minded, of course, until Ronald spoke up again.

"Don't you have it?"

xxx

**NOTE: Tomorrow will be the last post of Commands and Caresses for exactly seven days. From this Saturday to next, I will NOT be updating.**

Sorry guys, but exams are coming up, and I seriously need to hit the books and get some more rest. I spend anywhere from 5-9 hours on a single chapter (I get distracted easily. XD) and it usually keeps me up a bit later than I'd like. Exams only last for one week, so next Saturday, C&C will be back (and I WILL make it up to you guys, I swear.) and I'm thinking that sometime around mid-February to early-March the sequel, officially named "Siren Song of the Fallen", will debute. (I need a bit of a break after C&C, lol. 200-something-thousand word novel in about three months? I'm exhausted. I'll be editing C&C and fixing any typos/possibly adding a bit more bulk to the chapters in the meantime, though.)

I'm not leaving, and the story is not forgotten in the slightest! It's just that school comes first and I need to focus on that. Afterwards, I'll be back to procrastinating my homework away while entertaining you lovelies. ^_^ Sorry about this, and thanks again for reading!

Anyway, the whole poet thing isn't too much of a stretch for William. His name is a play on the name William Shakespeare, after all. 8D


	55. Nostalgia

Ahh, so sorry about being away longer than I said I would be, lovelies! ;w; You see, exams were delayed due to snow and general sucky weather, so they ended up getting set back a day, which I took to study more, and they were only just finished up yesterday. But, anyway, exams are over, and I'm back! 8D

*crickets*

Anyway, a very good friend of mine, ShinigamiLullaby, has recently written a fanfiction called "Within those Eyes, Light". It's an incredible story so far, and it deserves much, much more attention than the measly three reviews it's gotten. Seriously, that woman writes better than I do, hands down, no matter what she says. HER story isn't riddled with typos and minor plotholes, now is it?

No, no it's not, so suck on that, you Slutcliff cosplayer. I SAID IT IN PUBLIC, NOW SPIT OUT THE HUMBLE PIE. :|

So there.

But seriously, guys, go check it out, because she deserves more reviews for being an awesome writer and an even better friend. It's UndertakerxGrell and if you're nutty enough to actually like my story, you'll fucking love hers. No lie.

Also, did anyone else read chapter 53 of the manga? Did you see that shit? _Did you see it?_

Even if you don't read the manga, go check it out. Pages 14-21 for pure, undiluted badassery from that Shinigami *cough*sexgod*cough* we know as Ronald Knox. Did you s_ee_ that? Not only did he pull off perfect flips and shit with a _lawnmower,_ but _he stuck it to Sebastian Michaelis._

And page 16 so hinted at that judo-kickboxing that I told you guys about. I am so happy. I don't even.

See? I told you he's not a fluffy, girly little uke. Underneath that playful, adorable exterior, he could totally whip your ass back and forth. (Anyone else got that stupid song stuck in their heads now? No? Well, now you do. Suffer with me. Mwahahahaha.)

I totally called that. Shit is so cash.

(Now watch him get his ass kicked in the next chapter because I went and gloated. But, who gives a damn? _He cut Sebastian Michaelis,_ and that's all that matters. Anyway, onward to the chapter, and don't forget to check out ShinigamiLullaby's story!)

xxx

Ronald let out a strangled cry of shock as William's hands promptly wrapped around his throat and squeezed, threatening to strangle the younger reaper. William's voice was absolutely ferocious when he spoke again, and Ronald's eyes were nearly the size of dinner plates as he stared fearfully up at his elder, fearing his apparently imminent demise. He was both utterly terrified and horribly aroused, and he twitched in both terror and need as William shook him slightly, making his head bump against the bathroom floor repeatedly. It wasn't enough to hurt him, but it sure as hell scared the hell out of him, as it was just enough to cut off his airflow and most assuredly pay attention.

"What do you _mean_ 'don't you have it'?" William snapped, still jostling Ronald about like a bobblehead. "Where in the hell is my key, Ronald Knox? You'd better spit it out _right now,_ or I swear to the Gods, I'm going to string you up by your toes from the clothesline and let the birds have you!"

Ronald's strangled reply came out so garbled that William, as intent as he was on punishing his increasingly-blue subordinate, was forced to loosen his hold just slightly if he had any hopes of understanding him. Ronald drew in a long, raspy gasp of air and spoke again, his voice frantic and his eyes still huge as he sputtered out his answer.

"When I got done going through your room, I put it back in your hand!"

"Was I still in a coma?"

"Yes! Yes! It probably fell out or something! But I definitely put it there!"

"So it never left the infirmary after you returned it?"

"I don't think s-so!"

Ronald was immediately released, and he could do nothing but blink in shocked astonishment as the bathroom door swung closed in front of him a split second later. William was gone, and Ronald could hear his fast, agitated footsteps moving across the floor outside, and then the faint sound of the main door swinging shut as he left the suite entirely.

He slowly sat back up, wondering what the hell had just happened, but being grateful that he was still alive, even if his erection was throbbing painfully against his thigh. He stood, wincing slightly as his pants chaffed painfully against his arousal, and sat heavily on the edge of the tub, waiting for his body to calm down so he could follow William with some shred of dignity. It simply wasn't _fair!_ No matter what William did, he usually had the ability to cause some sort of effect on Ronald that was, more often than not, something that would have been prohibited and/or extremely embarrassing in public. Ronald stared sourly down at the lump in his pants, trying to get the image of William with that sexy, ferocious glint in his eyes out of his mind...

This was going to take awhile.

000

He'd deal with him later.

Right now, he needed to find the key, and he finally had the clue he had so desperately needed.

He recalled, vaguely, the feeling of something cool being placed in his hand when he was still comatose with fever. The very memory of being in such a state, no matter how cloudy it was, brought back a slight, unnerving euphoria. William shook his head to clear it of the memory as he rounded the corner toward the infirmary, his gait clipped and impatient. He needed to focus; where was his key?

If it had been placed in his hand while he was unconscious, it was very possible, as Ronald had suggested, that it had fallen out while he had tossed and turned while in the fevered throes of his sickness. That meant that it was most likely around the area of his infirmary bed; one of the few places he had yet to check. He mentally cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner as he turned the doorknob to the infirmary and pushed the door open unceremoniously, interrupting a necking session that had been getting rather heated in the process. Grell let out a small shriek of surprise and quickly pulled away from Undertaker, who simply gave an irritated sigh and craned his head back to look at William with a highly unimpressed expression.

William paused for a brief half-second, feeling his face flame red, but then decided that pretending the two weren't there was a better option than confronting them. He strode past without a word, though his eye was ticking yet again. By some miracle he didn't so much as glare at the extremely red-faced Grell or the lightly scowling, silver-haired elder that was stubbornly holding him close with the help of the two strong arms wrapped around Grell's waist. Grell buried his face against Undertaker's neck, as though he were trying to hide from the ensuing awkward silence that took place, which was broken only by the sound of William foraging around in the bedsheets and Undertaker's slightly sped breathing, which was a side-effect of their feisty makeout session.

"It's really only polite to knock." The senior Shinigami chastised, making Grell stifle a yelp when a searching, mischievous hand slowly reached down and firmly squeezed his rear. Grell gently nipped his neck in protest, careful to avoid the stitches and simply being grateful that William's back was currently turned to them, and seemed intent to stay that way.

"It's really only polite not to eat each other's faces in public." William snapped back, though Undertaker definitely saw the back of his neck flush, meaning that he was somehow blushing even harder. "Seriously, you know where your room is."

"But it's too faaa~r!" Grell whined cheekily as he raised his head again, apparently having gotten over the initial shock of the situation and just jumping at the opportunity to tease William. "And he's just irresistible!"

"It's true." Undertaker snickered devilishly, tangling his fingers in Grell's silky red tresses, the two of them sharing a mischievous giggle. "I can't help the fact that I just _ooze_ sexiness."

"You're the only person I know who'd dare use the words 'ooze' and 'sexiness' in the same sentence." William growled back, so far finding nothing that evenly remotely resembled a key. He wrenched the bedsheet from the bed and snapped it out as he continued his search, getting a little uneasy as the bed still revealed nothing. "Don't me laugh."

"No, don't," Grell tittered, nudging Undertaker playfully. "The world might explode, because it would bend the laws of everything we know. Even the Gods wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

William, who had tossed the sheet aside and was now digging about in a pillowcase, promptly threw said pillow at Grell when he decided that the fluffy white object contained nothing of interest. It hit him smack in the face, and Grell fell back against Undertaker as a few stray feathers billowed into the air from the impact.

"You asked for that!" Undertaker laughed, ruffling Grell's hair affectionately as the redhead pulled the pillow off after a second of stunned silence. Grell smacked Undertaker with the pillow, scowling playfully, but the silver-haired Shinigami caught it before it could thwack into the side of his head. Grell whined in protest and tried to tug it away, but Undertaker simply pulled it away from him and smooshed it onto the top of his head, smirking the entire time.

"So, what are you up to, Will?"

"Looking for my key." William grunted back absently, shoving his hand between the two newly-naked mattresses and feeling around. He was quickly getting more and more desperate as his key continued to prove itself elusive, and he felt his heart speed slightly as he found nothing. He dropped to his hands and knees and looked under the bed, feeling about with his hand at the same time, too nervous to even be embarrassed at the normally uncharacteristic display.

"You still can't find it?" Undertaker asked, suddenly sounding much more serious. Grell glanced between the two of them, his cheerful smile fading as William continued to paw around beneath the bed. He pulled the pillow off of his head and tossed it aside, his hair mussed from the slight static cling that the pillow generated.

"No, but Ronald said he'd put it in my hand while I was out, so I assume it would be somewhere in here." William answered, reaching as far back under the bed as his arm would allow, and getting extremely irritated when he found nothing but a particularly massive dust bunny.

"So Ronnie was the one who went through your desk?" Grell chirped quizzically, tilting his eyes up toward the ceiling and tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, he _did_ say he needed to go get something an hour or so before you woke up, and he made me watch you, but I didn't see him with anything like a key..."

"You couldn't have mentioned that before?" William snapped irritably, sitting back and rubbing his head with annoyance, having found nothing but something else to get a headache over. "I would have been a lot less worried if I'd known it was just him and not one of those wretched demons in the first place, you know."

"In all fairness, William, he never said anything about a key to me, either. We never saw him with it, but, then again, we weren't really looking." Undertaker agreed, stroking Grell's hair absently, the touch instantly banishing the small, hurt pout on Grell's face. "Where did he find it, anyway?"

"In my jacket." William grumbled, leaning back against the wall as his mind ran through his ever diminishing list of options yet again, and coming up very disappointingly short. "It was there afterall."

William stared at the floor as he thought hard, his brow pinched with thought as Undertaker tut-tutted to himself in the background. Nothing was really coming to mind, and he was just about ready to rip out his hair from pure frustration when he caught a faint, silvery glint from the corner of his eye. Blinking with surprise, and turned his head, studying the area where it had come from intently; a flash of silver among the rich dark brown of the floor, surely it couldn't be hard to find...

But, there didn't appear to be anything there but the bare floor and a fairly large, gaping black crack between two floorboards. Confused and increasingly irritated, William craned his neck and leaned forward slightly, squinting as his eyes studied the area intently. As he did so, another flash of reflected light blinded him for a brief second and caused him to draw back sharply with a tiny hiss of pain... and hesitant triumph.

_Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Spears._ A voice in William's mind chastised. _It never ends well._

Though he was now seeing multi-colored spots, however, William's heart still leapt with breathless excitement. He leaned forward again and carefully pried a few fingers in between the crack of the floorboards and gently tugged upward. The left floorboard held firmly in place, but the right, slightly loose, began to pull up at the upper-most, left-hand corner, where a nail had apparently rusted away and left it with the ability to slide out of place just the faintest bit. William immediately focused his attention on the loose floorboard and began prying away at the three remaining nails, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Why are you defacing your own library?" Grell spoke up innocently, watching William with an amused expression as the Head Shinigami pulled out the first nail and began working at the second. "Isn't that my job?"

"Shut up, Sutcliff." William growled back, yanking out the second nail and gripping the third and final one, his glove-covered fingers easily closing around the tiny metal surface. "I believe that I have just made an important discovery."

Grell, knowing that William wasn't really having a good day up to this point, obeyed, and instead simply watched as William pulled out the last nail and set it aside, before finally grabbing the floorboard and pulling it up and away completely. The brunette let out a triumphant, pleased grunt, and tucked the board under one arm, before reaching down and plucking something out of the space beneath the boards.

By that point, Grell had a definite idea of what William was doing, and his suspicions were confirmed when William drew his hand out and produced a large, rather intricate and certainly impressive silver key. He couldn't help but smile at the look of utter relief on William's face, and he felt Undertaker's chest rumble gently as the elder laughed, quite pleased with the happy outcome.

"Ah, there it is!" He chirruped happily as William set the board back in place and quickly pressed the nails back into their individual holes, intending to fix the board properly later on. He stood back up as soon as he was finished and gave Undertaker a light scowl as the emerald-eyed Shinigami continued to chortle. "Good thing, too."

"I'll agree with that." William said dryly as he slid the key back into his pocket, his knees almost going weak with relief. He was careful to hide, this, though, and there was no other outward show of his relief, as his face was a clean slate once more. "I was starting to get rather concerned."

"Obviously." Grell giggled, ducking the cuff William aimed at his head as the brunette passed the two entwined lovers, his eyes intent on the door. "But I'm glad you found it."

"That makes two of us." William said dryly, opening the door and shooting the two a meaningful look over his shoulder. "And for the record, it's really not any of my business what you two do with your free time, but could you _please_ take it somewhere else? I don't want to be getting any complaints about the two of you, understood?"

"Actually," Undertaker said, picking Grell up with a lavish swoop of his arms and a harmonious, fluid extension of his legs. Grell, held bridal-style in Undertaker's arms, giggled madly in surprise and squirmed with delight at the sudden show of affection. "We were just heading out for a picnic lunch, would you like to come along?"

William paused, eyebrow quirked and hand poised on the doorknob as he considered the offer quietly. Undertaker and Grell stared at him expectantly, and after a moment of thought, William shrugged nonchalantly.

"Why not? It's been quite awhile since I've had an honest day off." William said rather airily, finally stepping through the doorway and beginning to head down the hallway. "I could use some fresh air, anyway."

"William?" Undertaker inquired, readjusting his grip on Grell and sparing the smaller man an affectionate nuzzle and a kiss on the nose. Grell returned the kiss with a girlish giggle, quite content to just be carted around in such a fashion all day. Undertaker grinned and gently hugged him closer, happy to do the carting.

"Hm?" William questioned, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the elder.

"Did you open my gift yet?"

William blinked, his brow quirking slightly as he suddenly recalled the birthday present that Undertaker had told him to take special care of. Due to certain...distractions, he'd not yet gotten the chance to open it.

"No, not yet." He answered coolly. "I was really rather tired last night. I looked around my room for my key, then went to bed after about an hour or so. To be honest, parties never really interest me, so long as no one causes trouble while they're attending one."

His face was completely straight, his tone flat and calm, but inwardly, he was panicking as he saw Undertaker's mouth tug up just the faintest amount at the corner, into a tiny, fleeting smirk. His eyes glinted in an intelligent, knowing way, and William knew in that instant that, despite having done everything he could have to fly under the radar, he had been found out.

_I created you, William. I trained you and lived with you for ages, don't you think I know when you're lying? _That tiny smirk seemed to scream, and William knew, deep within his core, that Undertaker not knew exactly what was going on, but was also greatly amused by it.

He just hoped that his creator would take mercy on him. Oh, please, Gods, make him keep his mouth shut.

"Well, take your time, then." Undertaker said cheerily, hefting Grell slightly and walking down the hallway, winking subtly at William as he passed. "And please invite Ronald to the picnic, will you? I'm sure he'd feel left out if you didn't."

"Fine." William said through gritted teeth, shooting him a look that was half glare, half plea for mercy. Undertaker simply chuckled softly to himself and toted Grell down the stairs, headed for the kitchen with a very content redhead clinging to his neck.

William chewed his lip with agitation and turned on his heel, headed for his office with a stiff, nervous gait. His mind whirring with the various complications that Undertaker tattling on him might cause, William, for once, wasn't quite paying attention to what was going on as he reached for the door to the officer wing, and he was caught off guard as Ronald walked out and, in his haste, smacked right into his superior.

Ronald, having cured his... _problem_ through several minutes of patient waiting while thinking about anything but William or boobs, blinked in surprise from the rebound. The comical look of sheepish shock that he gave William made the older man's eyebrow migrate up his forehead. To be honest, the blush and sudden, stammering apology that left Ronald's lips both amused William and caused a fond, warm stirring in his chest. He rolled his eyes and placed a hand over Ronald's mouth, cutting him off mid-apology as he reached into his pocket and calmly pulled out the key.

"Luckily for you, the key was almost exactly in the same area where I had been." He said calmly, though his eyes flashed with brief, almost unnoticeable amusement as Ronald immediately relaxed and mumbled something from behind William's hand. "And it's no worse for wear, though, I really can't say as much about the floorboards."

"Hm?" Ronald mumbled around his hand, giving him a confused though highly relieved look, as this meant that he'd most likely get to live. William shook his head and removed his hand from Ronald's mouth, stowing the key safely away in his pocket once more.

"It fell through a crack in the floorboards." William explained. "I'll get maintenance to fix the floor tomorrow. For now, I'm declaring today a library-wide vacation day, as everyone could really use it, so you may go change out of uniform, if you'd like."

"Sure!" Ronald said, a bright, delighted smile crossing his face as he immediately whisked off his glasses, effectively stunning William with his shining, catlike eyes once again. "Thanks, Will!"

"Don't mention it." William said gruffly, forcing himself to stop staring at his boyfriend's alluring features and turning instead to head toward his room before he could develop a _problem_ of his own. "Grell and Undertaker invited the two of us to a picnic, by the way. Perhaps you could go help them pack lunch?"

"Oh, that'll be fun." Ronald said, though his smile faltered a bit when he saw William heading toward his office, as though he was about to begin his paperwork once again. "Uh... you're going with us, right? I mean, to the picnic?"

"Yes, but I'm going to take a bath and get a fresh change of clothes first." William said, glancing back at him with a tiny nod of reassurance, secretly pleased when Ronald immediately beamed again like the chipper young man he was. "Go ahead without me, I'll be down in about a half hour or so."

"Alright!" Ronald called after him cheerily, opening the door to his own room and heading inside to change his own clothes. "I'll see you in a bit!"

William couldn't help but give a fond shake of his head as he heard Ronald's door click closed, and he opened his own office with a rather wistful look on his face. Surely he was worrying over nothing; Undertaker had always shown him respect, why would he stop now, even if William _was _beginning to dabble in romance? Ronald was a respectable person, anyway, and it's wasn't like there was a rule against office relationships. There was just a rule against any extreme PDA (such as what he'd just walked in on, but since it was a vacation day, he'd let them off with a warning) and he would hardly go about doing any of _that._

No, if he was completely honest with himself, he was scared of _Grell_ finding out. Grell wouldn't be one to spread the news about with malicious intent; on the contrary, he'd find it absolutely adorable and tell everyone because he was actually _happy_ for them. As innocent as that intention may be, however, Gods know that William would have constantly been accused of favoritism from then on because of Ronald's promotion, and who knew what kind of bullying Ronald would get for it from jealous inferiors? No, William wasn't going to put him at risk for that, even if he was popular and on good terms with most everyone. As he closed his door and headed inside his office, loosening and then removing his tie, and then his gloves as he made a beeline for his bedroom, he decided then and there that anyone who dared cause Ronald any distress from that day on would have to deal with him promptly and personally.

And it would not be pleasant.

From there, William's mind simply processed idle, passing, honestly meaningless thoughts as he gathered his fresh clothes from the wardrobe and walked into the bathroom, where he began to run his water to draw up a fresh, relaxing bath. However, it wasn't long before his daydreaming brain remembered what Undertaker had told him, and as he glanced at the slowly-rising water in his tub, he figured he had plenty of time to go see what the present was all about.

He slipped out of his shoes and blazer as he headed back into his office, leaving them at the door and tucking it under his arm, respectively. All of the gifts from the night before had been smooshed in the far corner of the main room, next to the oaken medical cabinet, and he stared at the massive pile woefully as he entered. Apparently, someone-most likely Undertaker and/or Grell-had cracked into his office and gotten everyone to drag their donations inside while he had been "busy" with Ronald the night before, and there was now a hulking, eight foot tall pile of boxes and bags that nearly touched the ceiling, the bright, gaudy colors contrasting wretchedly with the rest of William's refined, classy decor. He sighed and laid his face in his hand; it was going to take forever to go through it all, and he had no idea where he was going to put everything once he _had_ unwrapped and unbagged everything. Moreover, Undertaker's tiny gift could have been anywhere, and it was very likely that an avalanche of brightly wrapped boxes were going to fall on his head if he tried to look., or pull out anything to get a better view inside the mountain of gifts.

He leaned back against the desk, glaring at the gifts that made up the monstrosity as though they were Sebastian himself, and it was only when his glove-free hand came to rest on a small, wafer-thin box on his desk that he finally glanced down. He found, to his pleasant surprise, that the box was placed on the edge of his desk, the ribbon being the only thing that stood out against the almost identical browns of the box and table. Clearly, Undertaker had been up there, and he'd been courteous enough to leave his gift out where William could easily find it. William blinked; was what was contained inside really all that important? It is wasn't, Undertaker probably wouldn't even have mentioned the thing, and instead simply allowed William to find it at his leisure.

He slid off the ribbon that held the two halves on the box together and set it aside, deciding that he might use the bright-red object as incentive to get Grell to behave later, as the redhead could always use it to tie his hair back. He lifted off the top of the box, and despite his normally unshakable cold demeanor, what he saw inside tugged at his heartstrings as soon as he realized what it was.

Carefully, as though he were touching the finest, most fragile glass, William lifted the brittle yellow pages from inside the box, scanning over the first one with a bittersweet ache in his chest. He read over the first few lines of the first page, and the name in the upper right-hand corner, written in cursive so neat that even he couldn't hope to match it, only confirmed what he suspected. He swallowed roughly, now understanding fully why Undertaker had been so intent on getting the box to him.

It was nothing less than precious.

At the bottom of the box, there was another piece of paper, much, much younger and whiter in appearance than its companions. Carefully, William set the aged, bittersweet pages aside and picked up the younger sheet, his eyes scanning over the entire thing in seconds, as so many years in the office had made him an incredibly fast reader.

_Will,_

_I know you miss her too, and I've been meaning to give these to you for quite awhile now. I know she taught you everything she knew and then some, and I know you'll take good care of these. After everything that's happened, you certainly deserve it._

_Thank you for everything._

_-T._

"T", of course, was Undertaker, who had donated his first name to William when the brunette had first been created so many years ago. William gently picked up the aged, precious poems that Claudia had written centuries before, touches as light as a butterfly's. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the key, opening the mid-right drawer of his desk and placing the delicate pages inside with the utmost care. It had been an empty drawer, but now, to William, it was even more important that the drawer that contained the Neverending Book, and he was very careful to lock it tight and replace the key in his pocket. He'd read them later; for now, it sounded like his bath was ready, and he wouldn't dare risk the precious documents by taking them near water.

As William turned and headed for the bathroom, he was blissfully unaware of the small, slightly sad smile on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen those papers, or when Undertaker had referred to himself as T.

Those had been happy times, back then.

But, then again, history does repeat itself, doesn't it?

Ah, nostalgia.


	56. Picnic Peckings

I'm going to say now that this chapter is a loooong, rambling bunch of fluff. XD Sorry if it comes out boring, but I don't see the rest of the story as having much more than maybe two or three chapters after this and then an epilogue. Basically, this is the part where everything winds down to a happy ending. I was thinking about breaking it into two parts, but since that would just be two chapters full of nothing but fluff and ramble, you guys just get an extra-long chapter that took me forever to write. Yay? XD

By the way, the pigeon IS cannon as well. Chapter 30 page 28 of the manga. XD (And also in a drawing on Yana's blog, though I can't for the life of me find a link.) I just decided to name it, since "the pigeon" isn't really all that catchy, eh?

Anyway, sorry for the long wait. Enjoy!

xxx

Grell lay stretched out in the shade, his head in Undertaker's lap and his eyes closed as he happily savored the feeling of the mortician's fingers sweeping through his hair. Undertaker was always playing with Grell's hair in one way or another, and he had to admit that it was one of his favorite things about the redhead, besides his boisterous and carefree personality. Grell didn't mind the frequent touches in the slightest; the feeling of those long black nails gently grazing over his scalp was heaven, and it was so delightfully relaxing for both of them.

They were sitting (or, laying, in Grell's case) on a large, soft, white blanket that had been spread out on the well-kept green lawn on one of the infrequently-used side yards of the Library. The blanket was in the shade of a large cherry tree, whose boughs were currently heavy with both the sweet scent and the pink color of the late-spring blossoms. The picnic basket was next to them, in the safety of the shade, which wouldn't overheat and spoil the food. The two were ignoring it as they waited patiently for the other two, not really minding how long the two of them were taking, as it just meant that they could have more alone time.

Slowly, contently, Grell slit his eyes open, meeting the lazy, bright emerald eyes of his lover above him. He reached up and captured Undertaker's hand as it was just coming around to stroke his hair again, then brought it down and gently pressed it to his cheek. Undertaker smiled softly down at him as Grell closed his eyes again, his thumb gently brushing over the back of Undertaker's hand.

"I'm glad everything worked out." Grell murmured a tad sleepily, stretching out indulgently and snuggling against the warmth of his lover. "Even if we lost a lot, at least everyone's starting to heal."

"Indeed, and it seems like we're healing better and faster than the last time this happened." Undertaker said, his thumb sweeping slowly across Grell's lips in an affectionate caress. "Trust me." He mumbled, his eyes going distant as he stared wistfully off at the horizon, his thoughts straying back to a time when he wasn't so content with the world..

"Undertaker?" Grell asked tentatively, releasing his lover's hand and sitting up on his elbows, tilting his head back to gaze at the silver-haired Shinigami. He bit his lip gently, so as not to pierce it, and focused a concerned, slightly nervous look on Undertaker's scarred face, searching for any sign of distress that he could help alleviate.

"Hm?" Undertaker hummed, looking back down at him calmly, his arm slipping around Grell's shoulders and gently hugging him close. Grell smiled softly to himself; Undertaker was fine, and Grell wouldn't have it any other way.

"...What do you plan on doing with her scythe?" Grell asked quietly, reaching up to gently caress Undertaker's face in a soothing gesture, lest he come off as too pushy and accidentally upset his lover for real. "I mean, I know you love me and all, and I love you too, so don't-"

"I'm not offended, Grell." Undertaker laughed softly, chucking the redhead under the chin affectionately, then gently tilting his head back to peck his lips. "And don't worry, I have a special place for it, just like I have a special place for both of you."

Grell blinked owlishly up at him, and Undertaker couldn't help but smile at how cute, how utterly _innocent_ he looked in that one moment. He felt so right there, tucked up snugly close against Undertaker, his sweet breath gently brushing his lover's stitched throat, his eyes meeting his lover's almost shyly, despite all they'd been through in their newly founded but very meaningful relationship. It was only natural when Undertaker gently took Grell's hand from his face and, instead, pressed it to his robes, where his heartbeat could be felt, strong and healthy, beneath them.

"Right here." He whispered, gently kissing the corner of Grell's mouth. "Always."

Grell blinked, and pure, honest happiness made his eyes shine with a faint sheen of tears. He leaned forward and laid his head against Undertaker's chest, nuzzling against him as his lover wrapped his arms tightly around him, as though he'd never let him go.

And Grell wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Undertaker?"

"M'lady?"

"Grow your bangs back." Grell's muffled voice said through the robes. Undertaker laughed then, and Grell's smile could have lit a dark room. He loved the sound of the elder's laugh, and he'd been using it too infrequently for Grell's taste as of late.

"Do I really look that bad without them?" He asked teasingly, leaning back to study the blush he just _knew_ would be on Grell's face. As he expected, Grell flushed red and pulled back from him bashfully, waving his hands as he made haste to explain himself.

"No!" He squeaked, and Undertaker was honestly a bit surprised when Grell suddenly leapt up and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, their faces so close that their noses almost touched. Grell kissed his cheek apologetically, and the blush on his face tinted just a few shades darker as he averted his eyes and mumbled his explanation.

"I want to be the only one who's allowed to see your eyes." He said, tucking his head under Undertaker's jaw. "I love every single thing about them, and I want them to be mine, just like you. It wouldn't be as special if you showed them to everyone all the time. So just me... please."

Undertaker blinked, then smiled softly and hugged Grell close, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He found the request to be both amusing (as per usual) but, also, one of the cutest things he'd ever seen Grell do, and he wanted to smother the redhead in kisses as he felt Grell snuggling against him once more. Besides, he would have had to grow his bangs back anyway if he planned on returning to the Mortal Realm (which, of course, he did) so there was no harm in the request.

"Whatever m'lady wishes." He whispered in his ear, running his fingers through the blood-red, baby-soft locks that he loved so much. He felt Grell smile against his neck, and a warm smile of his own crossed his face.

There were no words to describe how much Undertaker loved him.

Undertaker glanced up as he heard the sound of sneakers on the soft grass, and as Ronald Knox crested a small, grassy knoll just to the left of them, he grinned and waved a greeting. Grell blinked and turned in Undertaker's arms, then matched Undertaker's grin with his own, gleaming shark-toothed smile.

The blond was dressed casually, with blue jeans, a loose, short-sleeved white shirt, and-naturally-absent glasses, which made him look several years older. He had a double-armful of drinks, one large bottle for each of them, and Undertaker could only guess what the red liquid inside the glass bottles could possibly be, but he had a feeling it was probably alcoholic.

"Hiii Ronnie! It's about time!" Grell laughed as the blond approached them, before he finally plopped down on the blanket next to Undertaker, the bottles clinking gently from impact. "Is Will coming? I mean, he asked you to come with us, right?"

"He said he'd been down in a bit." Ronald said with a smile. "He's dead set on taking a bath after hearing what that demon said, you know?"

"Typical." Undertaker chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly. "He's always been the cleanliest person I know, so when you take his paranoia into account, that really doesn't surprise me."

"What'd you bring, Ronnie?" Grell asked as Ronald leaned over and opened the basket, slipping the bottles safely inside to keep them cool. "The good stuff?"

"You know it!" Ronald laughed, leaning back against the tree trunk with his arms folded behind his head. He shot the two of them a large, mischievous grin, his eyebrow quirking coolly. "Do I ever bring anything less?"

"Never." Grell answered, returning the grin and reaching over Undertaker's arm to give Ronald's arm a playful smack. "'Cause you know I'd kick your ass if you did!"

Ronald laughed and swatted Grell's hand away, setting off a mock-smack fight between the two. Undertaker watched them with great amusement, his arms still wrapped around Grell affectionately, though not possessively. There was nothing but the sound of giggling from the three of them for a minute, before Grell finally pulled away and nuzzled back against Undertaker, drawing an end to their miniature battle. The three of them were grinning like loons and snickering at odd intervals, quite happy in each other's company. It took them several seconds to settle down into silence again, but by that time, every member of the trio was in a rather sunny mood.

"Mmmph," Ronald sighed happily, flopping forward onto the blanket and closing his eyes indulgently. "So this is what a day off feels like, huh? It's niiii~ce..."

"You're telling me!" Grell groaned melodramatically. "I was pulling double shifts w_ith_ tripled paperwork and everything before this whole mess even started!"

"And whose fault is that?" Undertaker chided playfully, wagging a finger and grinning down at Grell. Grell pouted back up at him and caught his hand between both of his own, folding Undertaker's finger in and keeping his hand trapped between them. Grell didn't answer, as he knew he was in the wrong, but, true to character, he had just been taking the opportunity to whine a little. Ronald laughed and rolled onto his back, finally opening his eyes. He studied the two of them, all the previous jealousy gone from his features, and, instead, replaced with a fond, friendly look. Despite the fact that the two of them had had a bit of rockiness to begin with, he could tell that what they had now was very strong, just by the way they were constantly doting on each other. The two were completely infatuated with each other, and it was obvious in the way that their eyes shone whenever they were around the other. He was pretty sure that the two were going to be inseparable, and, frankly, he couldn't have been happier for them.

"Yoohoo, Ronnie? You still with us?" Grell chirped at him, jolting him out of his daydreaming. Ronald blinked, noticing that the two of them were looking back at him expectantly, and he thought quickly to keep himself from looking like a creep.

"Is that an industrial?" Ronald asked Undertaker, tapping his own right ear in indication as he quickly switched his gaze to the piercing in question. Undertaker grinned his trademark grin and tapped the ear piercing with one long nail, seeming more than happy to discuss it with Ronald.

"Indeed it is!" He said cheerily, dropping his hand to wrap it loosely around Grell's shoulders once again. "Ah, I've got... seven now? Including that one, of course."

"All in your ears?" Ronald asked, eyebrows traveling up his forehead as his grin widened. "Damn man, get some variety! It never hurts to try something new!" He chuckled jokingly, propping his head up on his hand. Grell giggled and toyed with Undertaker's ear, amused by the way it caused the ever-ticklish mortician to jerk and chuckle.

Undertaker caught Grell's hand and shrugged casually, taking the teasing in stride. He leaned back against the tree and grinned at Ronald in a friendly, though slightly eerie way; a way that sent a small shiver up Ronald's spine.

He was certainly getting back to normal.

"What about you, huh? The way you said that makes me think that you know a thing or two about piercings." Undertaker said, reaching over and poking Grell's stomach playfully; specifically, poking his navel. "I know _he _does."

"My piercing is cute!" Grell whined childishly, swatting his hand away. "And it's easy to hide from Will, unlike Ronnie's!"

Undertaker looked to Ronald quizzically, his eyebrow quirked, and Ronald stuck out his tongue in explanation. His piercing, as it always was when he was off duty, was in place, and he winked at them cheekily.

"I don't hide it, Grell. I take it out when I'm off duty, and I put a little plastic tube in it so it won't close up." He snickered. "You're the one who breaks dress code by wearing yours to work!"

"It's not like you can see it, unlike yours!" Grell said, tugging his shirt up a bit and pointing at his bellybutton piercing to emphasize his point. "Mine is way less obvious!"

"It's cuter, too." Undertaker teased, poking Grell's stomach and making him squeal and jerk his shirt back down. "Though, I like them both."

"Really, am I the only one who's not intentionally stabbing random holes in my body?"

The three looked up in unison at the sound of the cool, indifferent voice above them, and William met their eyes evenly from where he was leaning, arms crossed, against the side of the tree. Three jaws dropped in unison, and William's eyebrow rose up his forehead as he stared back at them silently, his expression suggesting that they were all idiots.

His silent arrival was hardly surprising, nor was his unimpressed remark on their choice of body jewelry. No, what absolutely floored the trio was the fact that William was dressed in casual clothes; specifically, a black shirt (not unlike Ronald's) and loose black slacks to match. His neck was bare, uncovered, without even his usual tie in sight, but for some reason, the kiss marks Ronald had left the night before weren't visible. His hair was combed back as always, and he studied them from behind the usual black-and-silver glasses, but his change in dress was so stunning that no one said a word as he unfolded his arms and came to sit next to Ronald, perching himself on the edge of the blanket as he continued to meet their looks coolly.

"...Well, that's a blast from the past." Undertaker snickered after several seconds, breaking the silence that had continued to reign as William finally gave up the staring contest and closed his eyes to lean his head back against the tree. "When's the last time you dressed like that?"

"The last time I had a day off." William said dryly, cracking an eye open at him lazily, then letting it slide closed again as Grell and, Ronald especially, continued to stare at William speechlessly.

"So, not since you took over?"

"More or less." William said with a shrug, lifting one hand from where it was folded at his lap and waving airily, as though it were nothing at all of interest. "Regardless, what did you pack?" He asked, sitting up and opening the picnic basket next to him.

"Oh, right!" Grell chirped, jerking back to reality and sitting up straight in Undertaker's lap. "Uh, there's sandwiches and stuff for everyone, some fresh fruit, too, and Ronnie brought some drinks...?"

"Huh?" Ronald started, his eyes jerking away from where they had been staring raptly at the lean muscle beneath the pale, alluring flesh of William's rarely-exposed arm. "O-oh, yeah. I had some old wine that I never got around to..." He mumbled, sitting up quickly and scooting a little farther away from the rest of them as he tried to hide the faint blush on his face. "There's plenty for everyone, because the bottles _are_ a bit big..."

"Hm..." William hummed in answer as he carefully took out the bottles and passed them out to everyone. Undertaker, obviously amused by the whole situation and how Grell and Ronald still looked a bit baffled, took one for himself and one for Grell, who was still reeling so badly that it was all he could do to take the bottle offered to him. However, no one was more stunned than poor Ronald, who couldn't take his eyes off William if he tried; the tables had been turned, and now _he_ was the one staring helplessly at William whenever the Head Shinigami moved. He took his own bottle slowly, numbly, still too entranced by how very appealing William looked to be aware of much else. William casually ignored his staring, but as he turned and began rifling around in the basket once more, Ronald was positive that he saw the corner of William's mouth twitch, as though he were holding back a triumphant smirk.

The tease...

"Who has which sandwich?" William asked airily, pulling out the four articles in question and setting them out in his lap as he glanced around expectantly at his companions.

"Ham!" Grell said, waving as though to flag William down. William rolled his eyes and tossed the sandwich to Grell, who promptly began to unwrap it, then looked at Undertaker and Ronald expectantly.

"Pb&j." Undertaker said with a grin, catching the sandwich as it was tossed to him. "And I packed peanut butter and honey for you two, because it's William's favorite and I had no idea what Ronald would have wanted."

Ronald jolted again at the sound of his name, and he didn't even have time to recover before a plastic-wrapped sandwich unceremoniously smacked him in the face. He flinched and started, nearly falling backwards from sheer surprise as the sandwich plopped into his lap. Undertaker and Grell promptly cracked up, and Ronald felt his face flush hotly as he quickly scooped up the sandwich, carefully avoiding the eyes of the other three.

"It's a just a _sandwich,_ Ronald." William said with the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, even though Ronald was being very careful to stare intently at his sandwich as he unwrapped it, his face still quite red. "It's not going to eat you. Quite the contrary."

"Yeah, yeah..." Ronald grumbled, taking a bite out of his sandwich and chewing grumpily. "It's not that funny, guys." He said, shooting a pointed look over at Grell and Undertaker, who were still giggling like schoolgirls. He was careful not to look at William again, lest he end up looking like an idiot once more because he wasn't able to stop staring. William noticed this, and the corner of his mouth twitched once again.

Ronald was simply too cute.

"By the way, if you don't want that wine, Will, I'll take it!" Grell chirped cheerily as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich and leaned back against Undertaker, taking another bite and chewing happily, obviously enjoying himself very much.

William, in question, was just picking up his bottle of wine, and Grell's eyes got huge when William pulled a pocketknife from his pocket and flipped out the blade, before he dug it into the cork. He twisted the knife, getting a firm grip on the cork, before he pulled it out completely. All eyes were on him as he took a large swig from the bottle, and even Ronald looked up when he noticed the sudden silence.

William swallowed a mouthful of wine and placed the cork loosely back into the top of the bottle, raising an eyebrow when he glanced around at the three of them. Undertaker looked the least surprised, and merely shrugged and returned to his sandwich after a moment. Grell and Ronald, however, were once again staring at him as though he'd just walked on water.

_"What?"_ William asked them incredulously, not bothering to hide his exasperation as he set the bottle aside. "My Gods, you act like just because I don't do this on a daily basis that it should be utterly impossible for me."

"Sorry..." Ronald mumbled, quickly looking down again, as the double-whammy of seeing William so exposed as well as mildly annoyed would have caused some _major_ problems if he concentrated too hard. "It's just..."

"...We weren't expecting it." Grell finished with a blush. "I mean, sometimes we go days without seeing you, because you're always locked up in the office. It's a bit surprising to see you so... relaxed?"

William blinked as this sank in, and he glanced at Ronald, who was munching on his sandwich and doing his best to be inconspicuous, his cheeks still a rosy pink. After a moment, William sighed softly and leaned back against the tree again, letting his eyes slip closed as he absently unwrapped his own sandwich.

"Fair enough." He muttered, unwrapping his sandwich without even opening his eyes and taking a bite of it. "But how in the realms do you expect me to run this place without having a drink every now and again, hm?"

"He's got a high tolerance." Undertaker chimed in with a snicker as he finished off his own lunch. "He's drunk me under the table several times. Trust me, he doesn't look like it, but he's a force to be reckoned with when it comes to alcohol."

"Don't go giving away all my secrets." William said dryly, though there was a small note of pride in his voice. Ronald chanced another glance up at William as he finished off his own meal, and it was then that things went straight to Hell, courtesy of Grell Sutcliff.

William pulled the cork from his bottle of wine once more, and he was just about to take a drink when Grell spoke up, a teasing, cheeky note in his voice.

"So, when's your official anniversary?"

William paused, the bottle raised to his lips, and an immediate, subtle but _very_ tense aura settled about him. His eyes slid to Grell, studying him seriously, and Grell simply grinned back innocently, as though it were an inquiry about work or the weather. William flicked his eyes to Ronald, who was staring wide-eyed at Grell, and then simply closed them and shrugged dismissively.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said coolly, finally taking a swig of the wine. Grell giggled, and as Undertaker, who knew what was coming, rushed to clap a hand over his mouth, the redhead maneuvered around it and spoke very cheerily.

"Uh-huh, so how'd you get that kiss mark?"

William's eyes went wide, and he gasped as he swallowed, then immediately began to choke. Loud, wracking coughs shook his whole body, but despite this, his hand immediately flew up to cover the side of his neck. He felt Undertaker thumping his back, and he dropped the bottle of wine and clapped his free hand over his mouth as he tried to stifle the choking, rasping gasps as he struggled for air.

Undertaker looked irritated, Ronald looked utterly horrified, and Grell simply looked triumphant when poor, startled little Ronald suddenly blurted out "I didn't tell him anything! I swear!"

"Y-you just _did!"_ William gasped after a moment, his glare, intense enough to set the sun on fire, flicked between Ronald and Grell, as he honestly didn't know who to focus on, he just knew that he was going to kill someone. A blush born of both fury and embarrassment colored his cheeks, and Ronald shrank back from him with wide, panicked eyes, obviously fearful of what the revelation would bring. Grell, however, got to his feet and pointed an audacious finger at William, who looked like he wanted to break it as the last few coughs shook his body.

"I _knew_ it!" He crowed happily, and Undertaker shot William a helpless look, begging him to show Grell mercy. "I _knew_ you two were a package! You wouldn't have freaked out and covered your neck like that if you didn't have something to hide! And even if there's nothing there, he just _proved_ it! I bet you really _do_ have a hickey!"

Ronald stared helplessly at William, looking downtrodden and very distressed at the way William glared back at him. He bit his lip hard and looked away, his fists clenching nervously as William turned his attention back to Grell, his voice a nervous hiss.

"How did you get that stupid idea in your head?" William growled lowly, irritated by the way Grell didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated. "What in the realms gave you the ridiculous notion that-"

"Oh, stop hiding it, Will!" Grell giggled, and to the amazement of everyone there, he flounced over and dropped to his knees to give William a tight, carefree hug. William, frozen from shock, could only stare at Ronald over Grell's shoulder as the redhead found the gall to ruffle William's hair, his horrifying teeth mere inches from William's face. "It's not your fault if you're in loooo~ve! Besides, Ronald's been crushing on you for aaaa~ges! Everyone could tell from the way he kissed you when we were training, we just didn't know what _you_ thought of it!"

Undertaker had his face in his hand, saying nothing, and Ronald looked like he wanted to die, as he was pretty sure that his big mouth had just ruined his relationship. William's eye twitched, and he placed a hand on Grell's face and forcibly pushed him away, his cheeks twice as flushed as before, his expression made up of complete annoyance. Grell whined in protest, and William simply glared at the ground, not sure of what to say now, because inwardly, he was having the equivalent of a nuclear meltdown. Great, just _great._ Sutcliff knew, and now it was going to be all over the office, and now he and Ronald would never get any peace whatsoever...

"Wiiiii~ll! Grell whined around his hand. "Will you calm down? Like I'd ruin something as adorable as a forbidden romance!"

"...What?"

Despite himself, William sounded utterly baffled, and it showed not only in his voice, but in the way his arm dropped, and he inadvertently released Grell, who promptly wrapped his arms around William's neck in another strangling hug. William grunted in protest, his air-supply abruptly cut off.

"It's too cuuuute! You're trying to be all tough and strong and ignore your feelings for the officer who stole your heart away! Why don't you just give in and-"

Grell was shoved roughly off then, and he fell back against Undertaker, who was now trying to hold back the wild giggles that continuously threatened to leave him by biting his hand. He was managing to remain somewhat quiet up to that point, even if his entire body was shaking with suppressed mirth, but he nearly lost it entirely when a flabbergasted Grell nearly knocked him over.

"You're so utterly _ridiculous!"_ William snapped, his face flushing badly once more as he glared bloody-murder at Grell, who was staring at him with nothing but childish surprise. "'Forbidden romance' my left foot, you little-"

His eyes flew wide when Ronald, who'd been silently creeping up on him the entire time, (with the help of Grell's inadvertent distraction) quietly wrapped his arms around him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. William looked down at his lover with obvious surprise, a startled blush coloring his face, and Ronald met his eyes sheepishly, a faint blush of his own coloring his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, dropping his eyes from William's as he leaned his head against his neck instead. "I know you didn't want to come out like this..."

William stared at him speechlessly at Ronald, who still had his arms wrapped around William's chest, his breath gently brushing against William's neck as he silently begged his lover to forgive him. He felt his face heat, and his eyes softened as he sighed and laid a hand on Ronald's back, gently hugging him closer.

"It's not that romance in the workplace is against the rules, of course." William grumbled to the three of them, his eyes purposely fixing on the grass as he avoided their gazes. "I just don't want people hassling him because they think I'm playing favorites. He's earned his position as vice-president, and I don't want people thinking otherwise. Frankly, I don't _care_ what they say about me, as they've been saying things for years, but I'd really rather not put him through it, so I'd really appreciate it if you three kept your mouths shut." He explained, before finally raising his eyes and giving them all a stern look. "Because if word gets out, I'll know _exactly_ who to come to, understood?"

Ronald blinked in shock, and he found himself silenced by the tide of emotion that suddenly rose up in him. Wordlessly, he pulled back from William just slightly and looked up at him beseechingly, his eyes searching his face. William was avoiding the eyes of all three of them once more, and Ronald watched the way his eyes flicked to and fro nervously. His hands gripped William's shirt, and he was just parting his lips to speak his utter gratitude when Grell's squeal suddenly drowned him out.

"Oh WIIIIIIII~LL!" He squealed, wriggling to and fro as he reached out and wrapped Undertaker in a strangle-hold hug, as William's neck was still occupied by a certain blushing blond. "That's so _sweeeeet!_ Sacrificing the ability to show open love simply for this sake of selfless preservation! Keeping silent in the shadow of undying romance just so you can elope in peace! How romantic! How gorgeous! How..."

Grell continued on his poetic rantings in an ear-achingly high-pitched voice as he continued to hug Undertaker and shake the grinning mortician back-and-forth happily. William closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand as he struggled to control his temper. Meanwhile, his other hand released Ronald to reach over to the picnic basket and open it. After a moment of quiet rifling about-the sound of which being easily drowned out by Grell's continuous squealing-William produced an apple and hefted it in his hand.

"...Utterly, undeniably adorable! So sweet and selfless and wonderf-GAMMFPH."

Grell was promptly silenced by said apple being hurled through the air and buried in his mouth with rather scary accuracy by an extremely unimpressed William. The force of the impact caused him to release his grip on Undertaker, and he fell back, half-in and half-out of the elder's lap. He stared wide-eyed at William, so surprised that he actually _remained_ quiet, and the glare William was giving him made sure that he uttered not a peep more.

"That's quite enough out of you, Sutcliff." William growled, readjusting his glasses pointedly. "I'm not in the mood for your blathering."

"Niiiice." Ronald snickered, a massive grin on his face as he studied the apple firmly wedged between Grell's razor-sharp teeth. "Ten points."

"Enough, Ronald." William sighed halfheartedly as Grell glowered at the youth, who simply grinned sheepishly up at William. "Or do I have to use one on you, too?"

"No, sorry." Ronald laughed, releasing his hold on William to sit beside him, quite content to snuggle up against the pale, smooth skin of William's arm. "I've caused you enough trouble today."

William rolled his eyes, and was just about to object when Undertaker spoke up cheerily, petting Grell's hair as the redhead brought his jaws together and easily snipped the apple cleanly in half. He caught one half in his hands as he chewed the other, listening and glancing up as Undertaker spoke.

"Well, that was 95% less catastrophic than I thought it would be." He chortled, ruffling Grell's hair affectionately as he gave him a meaningful look. "And it can stay that way if you keep quiet, you know."

Grell nodded solemnly, looking at William owlishly as he swallowed his mouthful of apple. He looked innocent enough, and despite his notorious love for gossip, it was well-known that he had an even deeper love for dramatic "hidden/forbidden love" setups, and it suddenly seemed rather unlikely that he would say anything now that he knew William's reasons behind keeping silent. Regardless, William scowled back at him and held out his hand expectantly.

"I'll be taking your wine as compensation for all of this." He growled. "You made me spill mine."

"But _Will!"_ Grell whined childishly. "I-"

"No buts." William growled, handing Grell the now half-full bottle of wine and taking the unopened bottle that Grell reluctantly exchanged. "It's your own fault. I don't trust you with a full bottle of alcohol, anyway."

Undertaker promptly cracked up as Grell crossed his arms and pouted, sourly taking a bite of his apple and chewing moodily as he scowled at the bottle. Ronald fought to hold back a smile as he laid his head on William's shoulder, his eyes closing lazily as he breathed in William's scent.

William always had a rich, warm smell on his skin; the scent of the mahogany desk he was usually seated behind. It was enticing and bold, but not in an overpowering way; no, it was bold in an empowering sort of way. It was light, subtle, and yet, utterly intoxicating. Ronald breathed deeply, content to never move again, when there was suddenly the sudden, loud sound of beating wings and ruffling feathers, and tiny clawed feet suddenly scraped against his cheek.

Needless to say, this startled the hell out of him, and he sat bolt upright with a loud yelp of surprise. He nearly collided heads with William, who let out a disgruntled cry of his own, and there was a startled cooing and rapid beating of wings about his head to add to the commotion. Then the same small yet sharp claws were suddenly perched upon his scalp, and he shook his head in a futile attempt to dislodge the object.

"What the _hell!"_ He snapped, hastily reaching up a hand to pull the creature off of his head. Without warning, there was a sharp, indignant cooing noise, and Ronald yelped again as something bit his finger roughly, nearly drawing blood. He snarled and jerked his hand away, and he was just about to smack whatever-it-was off when William's hand suddenly caught his wrist.

"Calm down, Ronald." William said dryly, and Ronald felt William's hand brush his hair, making a place in his stomach tingle, and then the sensation of the claws leaving. He looked up sharply as William drew away, and he felt his face color as he saw nothing more than a pigeon perched upon William's hand. "He won't hurt you."

Ronald flushed further at the minuscule note of amusement in William's voice, and the sound of Undertaker and Grell giggling like schoolchildren as they peered around William at the bird. He watched as the pigeon promptly stuck out one small, pink leg, revealing a tiny note securely tied there. William wordlessly reached up and gently tugged the string free, removing the note and freeing the bird of its tiny burden.

"We're using messenger birds now?" Grell inquired as he finished off the last of his apple. William shrugged absently, watching calmly as the bird paced to and fro across his hand, cooing softly to itself as it did so.

"I'm thinking about it. Tuft here is merely a test subject. Though, he's doing exceptionally well." William said, reaching his free hand up and petting the bird's head with one finger affectionately, making the creature coo with delight. "He saves me quite a bit of time. The problem, though," he said, making a face. "Was housetraining. It's possible, but it took me ages."

"Wonderful." Ronald said sarcastically, crossing his arms and scowling at the bird, who cocked his head and cooed at the youth. "It looks like he has problems with pecking, too."

"No, actually, he was supposed to do that." William said matter-of-factly. "He's trained to peck anyone who tries to get a letter that's not addressed to them, for security, you know. That took quite awhile to train into him, too." He said absently, his eyes scanning over the letter. "Here."

Ronald tried to duck away as William held the bird out to him again, and he continued scowling at the creature as it cocked its head and studied him with one eye, as though he was sizing up his competition.

"What are you doing?" He said a tad indignantly as the bird edged down William's hand and closer to him, making a soft, purr-like noise in the back of its throat as it continued to study Ronald.

"Giving you the bird." William said dryly, his mouth twitching when Undertaker promptly cracked up, and Grell leaned around William to leer teasingly at Ronald, sending a shiver up his spine. "I thought that was rather obvious."

"That's hilarious." Ronald grumbled as the pigeon promptly hopped onto his head and sat there, cooing happily as it puffed out its chest and snuggled into Ronald's hair, his eyes blinking closed. "It's so funny that I forgot to laugh."

"And you call me moody." William remarked with the faintest indication of a smirk on his lips as he turned the note over and began to write a response. Ronald simply let out a disgruntled huff as the pigeon began to knead his scalp with its claws, making him shiver again at the strange prickling sensation. Grell giggled and leaned out, trying to read the original note on the letter, or at least see what William was writing.

"The secretarial section is asking about confirmation on the Library-wide day off, you snoop." William said curtly, flicking Grell's nose and making him draw back with a tiny yelp. William shook his head with exasperation as Grell whined about William being rude enough to hit a lady in the face, and began to carefully roll up the tiny piece of paper. "Come here, Tuft."

Tuft craned his head down to stare at Ronald, who went cross-eyed as the bird cocked its head and gave him a single, reluctant coo, before standing up again and hopping onto William's outstretched fist. Ronald didn't look sorry to see him go, but he could have sworn that Tuft had a disappointed look on his face as William drew him away. He continued to give Ronald a sorrowful look as he stuck out his leg and patiently allowed William to secure the letter to him. Despite himself, Ronald felt a tad guilty as the bird let out a single, solemn coo, his head dipping slightly as he continued to stare at Ronald.

Ronald noticed something a tad odd then, and he blinked and glanced at William, who was concentrating on tying a perfect bow with one hand and ignoring the pigeon's pouting. Ronald poked William's arm shyly, and William spared him a glance before turning back to his work on the bird.

"What is it?"

"Does that thing... have eyes like ours?" Ronald asked, leaning forward to stare at the bird, though he was careful to keep a safe distance, least Tuft get defensive about the letter again and take it out on his face. "I mean, they're-"

"Green and yellow?" William asked simply as he continued to toy with the tiny string. "Ah, yes. I'll explain later, because I'd like you to help me with something important tomorrow."

"Can I-" Grell piped up.

"Not on your life." William cut in bluntly, giving Grell a sharp look. "It's very important, and I'm hesitant to trust anyone but myself with it. However, the fact is that I will most definitely need an extra set of hands, and that's where Ronald, as my vice-president, comes in. The two of us will be quite enough, thank you."

Ronald flushed bashfully at this and quickly looked away, and a brief fondness flashed in William's eyes as he glanced at the youth, the faintest touch of a smile on his lips. Grell seemed to notice, as a shark-toothed grin planted itself on his face, and he nuzzled against Undertaker, who softly kissed the top of his head and took his hand, intertwining his fingers as he and Grell exchanged a knowing look. Silently, William turned his attention back to Tuft, and after another second of toying about with the string, he finally finished and dropped his free hand.

"Alright then, take it to Janet, understood?" William said to the bird, his voice firm and authoritative; the same he used when giving orders to his officers. Using this tone of voice usually meant that his employees obeyed immediately and without question, but Tuft, however, seemed to have a different agenda in mind. He cocked his head at William and simply stared at him expectantly for a long moment, then lifted a wing and began to preen himself, the iridescent feathers on his neck shining green and purple as he groomed along the length of one long, gray pinion. William scowled and sighed irritably, then reached into his pocket, obviously unimpressed as he drew forth a few shelled sunflower seeds. Grell giggled, suddenly gaining a new respect for the bird; Tuft was, apparently, insubordinate unless he got what he wanted, and Grell was easily able to sympathize.

"Here, you greedy little git." William growled, looking disgruntled as Tuft immediately turned his attention to William's hand and began to hurriedly peck away at the seeds. William rolled his eyes as Tuft finished in no more than five seconds, and Ronald giggled when the bird then snapped his head up and looked at William for more, cooing at him as though to say "Please?"

"Get going, already!" William said with obvious exasperation, raising his fist a bit higher in the air to encourage Tuft to get going. As he was going up, Tuft ducked his head and grabbed a few strands of hair from Ronald's flyaway fringe of bangs, and Ronald squawked with pain as the bird promptly ripped them out and then took off, moving before Ronald could retaliate. Ronald, furious and rubbing his head, could only glare after the bird and wish that his aim was as good as William's as the low ruffle of feathers faded away.

"Faster, huh?" Grell snickered cheekily as he watched William lay his face in his hand, clearly exasperated with his pet. "Yep, I could barely see him move..."

"Shut your mouth, Sutcliff."

"You look good in black, Will." Grell continued, giggling mischievously as he teased his boss. "You know who else looks good in black?"

"Me?" Undertaker snickered jokingly, and donned his crescent grin as Grell kissed his cheek lovingly.

"Yes, you too, but so does Sebas-cha-"

Another apple thudded into Grell's mouth, and the redhead fell back with a muffled cry as William growled lowly at him, pissed that Grell had the gall to compare him to that deplorable _demon,_ of all things!

"I said, s_hut your filthy mouth,_ Sutcliff!"

Undertaker and Ronald burst into raucous laughter as Grell scowled at William, his teeth coming together and snipping the apple in two once again. To be honest, the sight of it creeped William out a bit, but he was reminded of something he'd been meaning to do for a few days now.

"Ah, yes," William said, focusing his attention on the undertaker, who somehow managed to tone down his cackle to a chortle as he spoke. "Weren't you wondering how we got rid of Resmodus?"

"Hm..." Undertaker said, his laugh quieting instantly as a small, bitter spark crossed his eyes at the sound of the name. Ronald saw this and instantly went straight-faced, as he didn't wish to incur the elder's wrath, even as unlikely as it was to be able to do so right now, when Undertaker was in such a good mood. "A bit, yes, seeing as I was... not quite with you to see the end of it."

Grell's eyes fell guiltily at this, and Undertaker wordlessly wrapped a reassuring arm around him, cuddling him close to chase away his worries. Grell nuzzled against him as William materialized a book from thin air, letting it drop securely into his hand. He opened it and thumbed through it for a second, then placed his finger against one point on the page. He slowly drew his finger back, bringing forth a tiny piece of Cinematic Reel. Slowly, coaxingly, he crooked his finger and gently drew back, as though beckoning the tiny strip of film to come forward. It obeyed, and within a few seconds, William passed the book to Undertaker, whose eyes studied the film closely as it began to play.

"Ugh... I can't watch that again." Ronald groaned quietly, turning his back and rubbing his temples as he tried to think happy thoughts. "You couldn't pay me enough. It was horrible..."

William shuddered softly next to him, so gently that no one but Ronald noticed. Ronald started slightly as his superior turned to the side, and his arms linked around Ronald, his chin resting on the top of his head.

"Nor could I." William agreed quietly, making Ronald blush as he nuzzled against Ronald's hair, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent indulgently. "And I really can't blame Tuft..." He whispered in the blond's ear, so very quietly that Ronald almost missed it. "Your hair _is_ very soft, and it smells like... cotton..."

Thankfully, no one but William noticed Ronald's wriggling, or the way William was teasingly tracing circles on Ronald's hip. Grell and Undertaker were both too busy watching the film silently, the faint blue light from the reel illuminating their faces. Grell looked nonchalant, almost bored as his teeth easily snipped through the remainder of the second apple, while Undertaker's lips were a pursed, thoughtful line, and his face was otherwise unreadable. He watched as the scene played before his eyes, his lips becoming more and more pursed as it went on. The film itself wasn't very long; the incident itself had taken no more than ten minutes, and it took only a fraction of that time to watch it again in the film. It took him no more than two minutes to watch everything in detail, and by the end of it, he had the exact idea of what had happened.

Once the last frame had finished playing, Undertaker, silent as a grave, simply closed the book with a quiet _thump,_ causing the Cinematic Film to disappear within the pages once more. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Grell, who met his eyes fearlessly, not showing even the faintest hint of regret as he crunched up the last piece of apple.

"Well... You officially win any arguments from now on." Undertaker said simply, prodding William in the back with the corner of the book. William blinked and turned around slightly, taking the book back, one arm still linked around the shoulders of a certain blond.

_"Please _don't encourage him." William groaned, the book vanishing just as it had appeared when he gave a single, simple flex of his hand. "I learned that the hard way."

"He had it coming." Grell said matter-of-factly as he swallowed the last of the apple, waving his hand dismissively, as though ripping a demon limb-from-limb was nothing to be interested in at all.

"Can we _please_ stop talking about this?" Ronald groaned. "I almost had it blocked from my mind and everything! Please don't drag it up again!"

"Agreed." William said, rubbing his brow with one hand. "I'd expect cheerier things out of a picnic lunch, you know."

"Hmmm... In that case..." Undertaker said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. All eyes were on him for several seconds as the old mortician thought, his eyes turned upward toward the pink boughs of the tree. After a moment, a wicked grin split his face, and he looked at the youngest of the group with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey Ronald, wanna make a bet?"

"Eh?" The youth inquired, a bright spark of interest lighting his eyes as he studied the elder, all-ears for his next words. Undertaker grinned and beckoned him forward with one finger, and Ronald immediately got to his feet and walked the minuscule distance over to him. He knelt next to the ancient Shinigami, who immediately cupped a hand at his ear and began to whisper something. Grell, insanely curious as usual, leaned in to try and hear what was going on, but Undertaker pressed his free hand against his chest and gently pushed him back, keeping him at bay.

"Oh, _here_ we go." William said dryly, watching the three of them with an unimpressed look. He let his eyes slide closed and leaned his head back against the tree trunk, relaxing his newly-loosened muscles as he decided to get some rest.

Big mistake.

After a moment of whispering, Ronald's face broke into a cocky grin, and he chuckled as Undertaker pulled away, an even larger grin on his own scarred face.

"Oh, that's _easy."_ Ronald said briskly, getting to his feet again and approaching William.

"What? What is it?" Grell whispered loudly to Undertaker, who snickered and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer.

"You'll see."

Ronald paused before William, and William, eyes still closed as he breathed in the relaxing scent of cherry blossoms, either didn't notice or just plain ignored the youth. However, he certainly noticed when Ronald suddenly sprang on top of him, and he was so caught off guard that he could do nothing when Ronald began to tickle his highly-sensitive, exposed neck.

He was so caught off guard, in fact, that he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

Grell stared in mute shock as William fell onto his back from the impact and began to laugh helplessly as Ronald sat on his waist to pin him and began to "attack" his neck, his fingertips dancing lightly over the ivory surface. William twisted and squirmed, struggling to get away, but his arms were pressed firmly to his sides by Ronald's legs, and he could do little but lie there and take it.

William's laugh was deep, rich, and surprisingly warm, and, much like his creator, once he started, he didn't seem to have the ability to stop. He writhed and struggled to get his hands free as he continued to laugh, but Ronald's legs simply squeezed gently, keeping him firmly in place, and he could do nothing but lay there helplessly as a giggling Ronald continued to tease him. Undertaker's mad tittering joined the sound, but Grell was too shocked to even make a single peep; because holy shit, _William was laughing._

It didn't last long, however. As his writhing and helpless laughter got worse, William managed to get one hand free, and he reached up and instantly grabbed Ronald by the throat. He was very careful not to hurt him, but Ronald still squealed in shock when, with an easy flick of his wrist, William sent him rolling across the picnic blanket and almost into the grass. It didn't hurt; it merely startled him, but his eyes got huge when William, a split-second after Ronald had rolled to a hault, was suddenly on top of him, pinning Ronald just as he had pinned William a second before.

_"You,"_ He hissed, sounding absolutely furious, an embarrassed blush coloring his face as he scowled down at his subordinate. "Will be spending twice as much time in my office tomorrow." He said, glowering as Ronald gave him a despairing look. "And yes, I mean overtime."

"But _Will!"_

"Do you want a pay-cut for the day on top of it?"

Ronald quickly shut up.

He didn't look happy when William got to his feet and stalked over to Grell and Undertaker, who watched him approach with awe and apprehension, respectively.

_"You,"_ He said, pointing a finger at Grell and making the redhead go cross-eyed, his mind reeling as he struggled to figure out how he'd had any part in it. "Congratulations, you're behaving for once. Keep it up."

"Th-thanks..." Grell sputtered, shrinking away from William, as he knew all-too-well what his boss was in this foul a mood, and that it was stupid to test him when he was in this state, no matter how hot he looked.

"And _you,"_ He said, abruptly turning his attention on Undertaker. Undertaker's eyes widened, and he scooted a few inches back as William took another step forward. "I would think that _you_ of all people would know that I wouldn't appreciate that, and the fact that you put someone impressionable up to it is _so_ unsavory. Therefore..."

"William..." Undertaker said, scooting back a bit more. "C'mon, now, let's be reasonable..."

"This is perfectly reasonable!" William snapped, and Ronald and Grell exchanged an amazed look as their usually-uptight boss sprang upon his creator, knocking them both to the ground. William's legs pinned his arms, and he immediately began to attack Undertaker's sensitive chest. The mortician immediately cracked up, writhing helplessly beneath William as William mercilessly continued his assault.

"No respect for personal space, or boundaries of any kind," William chided as he continued to tickle down Undertaker's sides and across his ribs, throwing the elder into a frenzy of laughter. "Barging into my Library whenever you please without forewarning, borrowing books and never returning them, chattering on with the employees and making distractions... This is what you get!"

"M-mercy!" Undertaker choked, tears of mirth running down his scarred face by this point. "M-mercy! Please!"

"Hm? What's that? Speak up now, don't stutter!" William barked, though he was obviously fighting the urge to smile, and fighting very hard. Ronald stared speechlessly, while Grell giggled madly, dimly wondering whether or not he should step in and help his lover.

"Mercy!" Undertaker managed to gasp at last, before falling into a helpless gail of laughter as William tickled under and across his arms. Despite the heavy cloak, Undertaker was still horribly ticklish, and he could do nothing but crow with laughter as William finally released him. He could not even say anything in protest as William snatched the hat from its perch upon his head and tossed it roughly ten feet away.

"Now, go get it." He said with an air of finality as he stalked back over and took his previous place on the picnic blanket, crossing his arms and watching the old mortician as he curled into the fetal position, still trembling with laughter. William's mouth was twitching constantly now, and Ronald had gotten over his shock and let out a snort of laughter at the sight. At the sound of Ronald finally breaking into giggles, William covered his mouth with one hand, trying very hard to look serious and thoughtful, even if everyone present knew that he was smiling.

Grell, giggling and tittering twice as hard, began to get to his feet to help his lover, but William caught him by the elbow and firmly pulled him back down.

"No no, he's a big boy, he can get it himself." William said around his hand, though he was obviously fighting the urge to laugh on his own accord by this point. Grell, too entertained by the show to argue, obediently sat back down to watch. He was now laughing in earnest, and Ronald was doubled-over with mirth, tears beading in his eyes as his body wracked with laughter.

Undertaker was now trying to get up in order to get his beloved hat back, but he'd slump back over with helpless, loud bouts of laughter that shook his entire body and made tears run down his face. He made very, very little progress for the first few minutes, and it took him twenty minutes in all to stumble to his feet and retrieve his tophat. By that time, Ronald and Grell were a helpless, crying pile on the picnic blanket, and amongst all the commotion, they could have sworn that they even heard a few suppressed chuckles from William.

Finally, his tophat back where it belonged, Undertaker came back over and slumped onto the other two, adding to the pile of teary-eyed, red-faced Shinigami who were still giggling like loons. With Grell squished onto the bottom and Ronald sandwiched in between them, William rolled his eyes halfheartedly and laid back against them, his arms folded against Undertaker's back as he reclined against the dogpile of people he was closest to.

There was a smirk on his face as he quirked an eyebrow and looked over at Undertaker, who snickered and met his eyes as he brushed the tears from his cheeks.

There, in his eyes, was the happy, lust-for-life glitter that William had been aching to see for years, and William felt his heart swell with happiness as he listened to his companions giggling beneath him. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, and doing his best to imprint every detail into his mind; the smell of the late-spring breeze and the cherry blossoms, the feel of the soft blanket over the springy green grass, the cool shade of the cherry tree, the bright blue of the sky and the shapes of the handful of puffy clouds that floated within it, the sound of the laughing Shinigami beneath him, but, most of all, the sight of Undertaker's brilliant emerald eyes.

Because they had said that Undertaker was happy again, and, if the giggling and wiggling beneath him said anything, so were Ronald and Grell.

And, in that instant, so was he.

In fact, he felt as if he would never be sad again.

And finally, he joined in their laughter, without any help at all.


	57. Eternal

I'm sorry for going so long without updating, guys. It's been a long and hard week, and things have been catching up with me. Sorry if updates are a little spotty, but hopefully lemon will make up for it, right? (yeah, probably not. XD)

By the way, if anyone cares, I got my two pet rats, Monterrey and Jack, yesterday, and they along with two very awesome friends of mine make everything better. :3

Anyway, sorry for the delay, and here's your chapter!

xxx

The four Shinigami passed the remaining hours of the day with pleasant chatter, good food, and, most of all, the welcome company of each other. Yhe sun traveled all-too quickly across the sky, making the four chase the shade of the cherry tree, until it slowly began to sink below the horizon, turning into a bright red ball that tinted the surrounding clouds gorgeous shades of pink, purple, and orange.

That's when they reluctantly decided that their day of fun had to come to an end, and they made no haste in packing up the remnants of their picnic. Even the ever-brisk William was dragging his feet; though his stoic face gave away nothing, even he was sad to see the day coming to an end.

Finally, everything was cleaned up, and all that remained was the picnic basket dangling from William's hand (He had volunteered to take the thing back to the kitchens, where it had come from in the first place.) and good cheer among them. Ronald had mischievously slipped his hand into William's, despite the light scowls he received in turn, and the stern brunette had warned him that he would allow it only until they got within sight of the Library once more. Ronald hadn't minded; William's reasons behind his secrecy flattered him, and he was certainly going to pay him back for all the recent promotions and spoiling _very_ soon; even if William _had_ given him overtime.

Grell, meanwhile, was linked arm-in-arm with Undertaker as the four of them headed for the Library. The redhead was silent for once, content to take his time, and was nuzzling lazily against the sleeve of the mortician's cloak as they walked. Undertaker was smiling to himself as he watched Grell; though he was also reluctant to leave, he was the only one who was truly looking forward to getting back into the Library.

There were still some things that he had to take care of, of course.

William released Ronald's hand as soon as the face of the Library appeared, and when they reached the impressive building, he shouldered open the main doors and stood to the side, holding it open as the other three entered. Ronald looked cheery, not minding the loss of contact he had with William in the slightest, as he now knew that he was welcome any time he felt the need, so long as he was discreet. Grell simply continued his fawning over a grinning Undertaker as the two set foot on tile once more, not even seeming to notice the other two, as they both had only one thing on their minds, whether or not the other knew it.

"Can you make it to your room this time?" William asked dryly as he watched the two pass, his eyes lidded lazily. Grell giggled mischievously and squeezed Undertaker's arm; obviously, William sure as hell knew, and judging by the way Ronald blushed, he didn't miss the innuendo, either. The mortician simply grinned at William, who rolled his eyes and stepped away from the door, letting it swing closed.

"I didn't want to know that!" Ronald crowed helplessly, his face pink as he continued to blush furiously. Grell simply giggled harder, and Undertaker's grin grew as William pinched the bridge of his nose, as he often did when he was resisting violence.

"Never mind." William said, hefting the basket and striding toward the kitchen. "I'll be right back." He said to the blond, moving past him as he went.

Ronald felt William's hand brush his, and for the briefest second, there was a tiny, almost undetectable pressure against his palm. He blinked and looked down, faintly hearing the sound of Grell and Undertaker's boots as the two headed off toward the lower-officer wing. In his hand, a tiny, unobtrusive piece of paper-much like what had been tied to Tuft's leg-lay pressed against his palm. Startled, he took the paper between the fingers of his other hand and carefully unraveled it, his heart speeding as his eyes scanned over the words there.

_Meet me in my office._

000

Grell gasped breathlessly as he was shoved roughly up against the wall of his bedroom, the strong, ever-dominant and _very_ male body pressing tightly against him, keeping him firmly in place. An excited flush colored his face, as he knew what was coming and how utterly enjoyable it was going to be; and he sure as hell planned on indulging.

He could only tremble with delight when he felt his lover's teeth nipping up his neck, the touches leaving minuscule bruises that bloomed instantly as they danced across his muscles, which were twitching with every pinch and graze. He suppressed a needy groan as Undertaker's hand slipped up his shirt, his hand stroking lightly over silky flesh, nails grazing over a hardening, sensitive peak as his fingers traced spiderwebs across Grell's chest. Grell really did groan, softly, when Undertaker kicked his legs apart and began to rub his leg lewdly against Grell's awakening arousal. His breath was hot against the back of Grell's neck as he spoke, and Grell's knees trembled at the lusty, throaty growl that resided in his lover's voice, his own head hanging as he dug his nails into the wall and struggled to decipher the message through his haze of desire.

"Tut tut, m'lady. Getting so excited already?" Undertaker hissed, making Grell flinch and mewl when he gave a particularly sharp nip to the side of his neck. "What am I going to do with you, hm...?" He breathed, his fingers firmly pinching the same teased nipple, making Grell arch against him, his breathing getting heavy as his need began to throb against his thigh.

"I think you know." Grell growled back softly, being sure to take up a demanding tone, just to egg his elder on. Sure enough, Undertaker's leg immediately pressed almost painfully against his member, making him gasp as the mortician ground his leg against the redhead in a rough, circular motion.

"Oh, really?" He hissed, and much to Grell's disappointment, the leg was dropped, though Undertaker's hands seized his wrists and pinned his hands to the wall, high above his head. "Maybe I'm clueless, and you should point me in the right direction, hm?"

"Don't play dumb." Grell hissed back, moving his legs apart slightly more as he felt the grip on his wrists tighten. "I know what you want." He said, glancing back at the mortician and winking, a Chesire grin playing across his face as he batted his eyes seductively, reeling in his prize.

Undertaker chuckled darkly, and Grell's heart sped as Undertaker switched one of Grell's wrists to the other and pinned him with one hand instead of two, his free hand slipping down the line of Grell's spine, teasing the area of his lower back by scratching firmly at the area just above that enticing, feminine rear, applying just enough pressure to leave marks without quite drawing blood just yet.

"But, the question is..." Undertaker whispered lowly, making Grell quietly groan again when his finger dipped below the redhead's pants to trace teasingly down his cleft. "What do _you_ want?"

Grell looked over his shoulder at the mortician, his voice breathless and low with lust, his face flushed and his eyes lidded with need. Undertaker's brilliant emerald eyes with glittering with animalistic desire and boring back into his, eagerly awaiting an answer. Grell only got more excited as they pinned him in place, just waiting for a chance to do unimaginable things to him.

"I want you," He panted softly, shivering with pleasure as Undertaker's hand slipped around to firmly squeeze his hip, encouraging him to speak. "To fuck me senseless."

Grell gasped almost inaudibly as he was suddenly thrown down on his bed, his jacket missing and Undertaker's bare, scarred chest above him as his lover instantly pinned him down, not even giving him a chance to blink. He quickly cuffed Grell's hands to either of the bedposts above his head, locking him into place and leaving his upper-body gorgeously flexed as his muscles responded to his arms being held back. Too startled to protest, Grell could only tug weakly at the handcuffs as Undertaker drew away to smile tauntingly, almost dangerously down at him.

"As m'lady wishes..."

Grell could only let out a startled squeak as Undertaker's mouth suddenly smothered his own, and Undertaker took the opportunity to enter his mouth and kiss him furiously, making Grell's body quiver faintly with pleasure, his eyes shut tightly as he fought a futile fight for control of the kiss. He arched back against the bed in surprise as he felt Undertaker's hips suddenly grind against his own, and his aroused state became painful as Undertaker's hands gripped both his vest and his shirt, tearing them off and immediately exposing Grell's porcelain flesh to the warm air.

Undertaker paused, his eyes studying Grell hungrily, loving the way he was so exposed and the way his lithe chest rose and fell as he panted for air. Slowly, he reached up and laid a hand on Grell's stomach, smirking as the redhead jerked and mewled softly at the touch, and the way he tossed his head back as Undertaker slowly slid his hand all the way up to his chest, his thumb rubbing firmly against one hardened peak, making Grell jerked again, slightly harder this time. He slid his hand over, pausing for a brief second, then let his smirk grow as he dragged his nails down Grell's side and heard him let out a low shout of pleasure-pain.

Grell cried out joyously once more as Undertaker's teeth closed around one hardened nipple, his long black nails leaving scratches down Grell's sides that beaded blood as he marked him for his own. He nibbled and sucked roughly at the nub, his ministrations causing Grell to continuously groan and writhe beneath him as his hands traveled slowly back up Grell's sides, smearing the crimson beads there. He smirked around the abused nub, his thumb coming up to tease the other as Grell arched up against the wet heat of his mouth, his chest heaving beneath Undertaker's lips as he flicked his tongue over the moaned particularly loudly at that, and Undertaker's fingers firmly pinched the other as he happily continued to make Grell sing.

Grell gasped in quiet frustration as the delicious pleasure-pain of the rough ministrations on his peaks ended abruptly, leaving him gasping for air as he wriggled and tried to get himself closer to the elder. He felt Undertaker nipping and nuzzling along the soft flesh of his belly, pausing only to smooth his tongue over the firm contours of his abs and make him moan with need. Undertaker smirked to himself and continued to work his way down Grell's perfect body, pausing to lick again at the skin-heated, sexy piercing at Grell's navel, before slipping his tongue inside and making Grell's hips buck as he explored the tiny opening.

Grell's pants for air were rapid and heated by this point, and he tugged roughly at the cuffs, wishing he could get his hands free to stroke over the gorgeous, scarred body of his lover. The cuffs, much to his dismay, didn't give in the slightest, and he could only watch helplessly as that long, lean body of Undertaker's hovered above him, still teasing him with nips and kisses and licks and scratches in all the right places. He hoped, desperately, as Undertaker moved further down and nipped along his left pelvic bone, before tracing his tongue along the defined dip of Grell's hip, that the elder wouldn't keep him waiting too long.

He was, therefore, horribly disappointed when Undertaker rapidly kissed his way back up his body, before nuzzling at Grell's neck, his breath hot against the pale flesh as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against the junction of his neck and shoulder. Grell hissed first in pleasure as Undertaker's hot tongue bathed the side of his neck, then pure pleasure-pain as Undertaker bit down and captured a pocket of the creamy skin beneath him, sucking roughly and chuckling softly at the way Grell tilted his head to allow better access.

"T-Taker...!" Grell gasped breathlessly, his moaning adding to the sound of the handcuffs clinking as he fought to get free and caress his lover; touch him and stroke him and pull him closer and cover that scarred face in kisses...

The cuffs still held strong, and he could only moan as Undertaker released his hold on his neck, before nipping roughly up the length of it and finally beginning to nibble his earlobe. His fingers dipped below the waistband of Grell's pants and scratched over the highly-sensitive surface just above his member, making Grell arch and mewl against his palm. Undertaker smirked and gave his ear a rough nip and a few tugs, causing Grell to arch further, before pulling away to observe the feisty redhead's face, finding himself quite pleased with what he saw.

Grell's face was adorned by a gorgeous rosy blush that perfectly complimented his blood-red hair. His lips were swollen and wet with lust, slightly parted as he drew in rapid, heated gasps of air; his eyes half-open and glazed as desire and carnal instincts took over all of his thought processes, and his crimson locks framed his heart-shaped face beautifully, highlighting the minuscule bruises and kiss-marks that covered the length of his neck and torso, which were set off by the way Grell's hands were cuffed above his head, forcing his lean, toned muscles to flex and make for an even more erotic sight as they were framed by the white shirt and vest that lay limply on either side of his body. Undertaker suppressed a wince as the angry throbbing against his thigh became rather painful, and all he wanted in that instant was to tear Grell's clothes off and keep him screaming until the break of dawn.

Which what was Grell had asked for, right?

Undertaker smiled to himself as the animalistic thought crossed his mind, and Grell must have noticed the dangerous, lusty glint in his eyes, as he quickly kicked off his boots while he still had the chance. Undertaker leaned in and hooked Grell's glasses with his finger, lifting them off and setting them aside. As he did so, he dipped his head and whispered in Grell's ear, making the redhead quiver with excitement as the sinful growl coupled with the hot breath made his blood boil with desire.

"You, m'lady, are about to have an all-nighter of a different variety."

Two fingers seized his chin and forced his head to the side, and Grell submitted to the near-brutal kiss that Undertaker forced upon him, barely able to breathe as the silver-haired Shinigami gripped the waistband of his pants and roughly pulled them down, dragging both the fabric of his undergarments and his trousers mercilessly over his swollen member before tossing them to the floor. Grell nearly shouted into the kiss at this, his back arching involuntarily and making his lust-slicked member brush Undertaker's hand, the tiny, accidental touch alone nearly sending him into a frenzy.

Undertaker shivered violently as he struggled to keep himself under control, and instinctively gripped Grell's neglected arousal and began to pump him roughly, the action serving both to distract himself until he had finally decided that Grell had been "punished" enough, as well as providing a massive amount of pleasure for his saucy little lover. Grell let out a quiet scream and arched high into the air, his heels digging into the red satin sheets of the bed as he bucked his hips erratically, trying desperately to keep up with the fast pace that Undertaker had set. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, beading a shimmering drop of blood. Undertaker grabbed his hip and roughly forced him back down, his nails causing tiny scratches and bruises to instantly form on the silken flesh of Grell's leg. He continued to hold Grell in place, smirking as Grell mewled in frustration, unable to do much besides move his hips only marginally against Undertaker's hand. It was _maddening!_ He wanted so _badly_ to lose himself in that tight, practiced, pounding ring of fingers, and Undertaker was being absolutely ruthless in his revenge. Grell was not only unable to stroke and fondle him as he so desperately wanted, but now, he wasn't able to participate, either.

"Did you really think I was going to go easy on you?" Undertaker leaned down and growled into his ear, roughly squeezing his captured hip as he did so, making Grell yelp softly as the icy hiss of his voice drug him halfway out of his haze of pleasure. "Now now, I'm not one to forgive so easily..."

Grell could do nothing but groan incoherently in response as Undertaker squeezed his member. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly as Undertaker continued to stroke him fast and hard, his diaphragm heaving as he fought to control himself. He couldn't let go this early! It would be too much of an easy victory for Undertaker! He, he-

"DAMMIT!" Grell screamed, arching clear off the bed once more, despite Undertaker's restraining hand. His body quivered as his release covered the still-pounding hand wrapped around his member, thoroughly coating it. His entire body shook as waves of pleasure swept over his entire being, the euphoria of release clouding his senses so much that he almost didn't hear Undertaker's devilish chuckle, or feel his hand pump thrice more, and then leave his spent organ. His firm, feminine chest heaving as he struggled to regain his breath, his heartrate slowing back to normal speed as a cloud of satisfaction settled over him, Grell slit his eyes open, his fuzzy vision slowly clearing as much as it possibly could with his glasses missing.

Undertaker stared back at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly drew his tongue down his elegant, slender fingers, cleansing them of Grell's release and making the redhead shiver as he watched. Grell's eyes were slowly, sleepily blinking as he regained the ability to comprehend what was happening, and he swallowed hard as Undertaker groomed away the last of the mess, an eerie, quiet chuckle wafting out of him.

"Such language doesn't befit a lady, Grell. I'm disappointed." He said lowly, his smirk growing as a pensively frowning Grell watched him lean over and open the drawer of the bedside table, withdrawing a ball gag from within. Grell's eyes widened with surprise, and he flicked them back to Undertaker as the grinning mortician smirked wider and leaned closer, one hand cupping the back of Grell's head and forcing it up.

Grell, knowing that it was futile to resist (and not really wishing to, anyway, partly because it only would have incited further teasing, partly because he immediately found the idea horribly arousing), opened his mouth obediently, his eyes meeting Undertaker's as the gag was placed in his mouth and Undertaker began to secure it in place. Undertaker merely smirked down at him, kissing his cheek as he fixed the gag into place and drew away, leaving Grell unable to utter a word of protest. That didn't really bother him; the pleading way that Grell was staring at him and the redhead's slowly returning arousal were proof enough that Grell wanted to take as much as Undertaker was willing to give, and probably even more.

"Don't break that," Undertaker warned, his hand slipping down to stroke slowly up and down Grell's inner right thigh, making him twitch and shudder softly as his euphoria rapidly began melting down into another fog of burning desire. "Or you'll really be in trouble."

Grell tried to speak around the restraint, but he wasn't able to do anything but grunt around the gag as Undertaker continued to teasingly trace intricate patterns on the inside of his thigh, making Grell's spent member twitch as it slowly continued to awaken. Grell closed his eyes tightly and moaned ever-so-softly around the gag as Undertaker's tongue slowly drew up the side of his neck to trace the shell of his ear. One hand continued to play with Grell's leg, now stroking slowly all the way down to his heel and back up again, the other tracing lightly over his ribs as Undertaker drew back, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. Grell was breathing deeply through his nose, and he jerked gently as Undertaker scraped one long nail slowly down his stomach, leaving a slightly-raised scratch in its wake.

Grell's arousal was now rapidly returning, and he winced at the sudden rush of blood when Undertaker dipped again to capture one neglected nipple between his lips and suckled on it, his hand sliding down Grell's side, his nails trailing lightly and making Grell break out into goosebumps. He dug his nails in a little further, making Grell moan loudly around the gag as his scratches once again beaded a few drops of crimson.

He could now feel Grell's hardening length pressing against his own thigh, and his own neglected member throbbed painfully in response to the touch. He knew he couldn't resist Grell's incredibly erotic position and the way he was now moaning and writhing gently beneath him much longer, and he shuddered softly as he felt Grell arch slightly against him, coaxing him into claiming the redhead.

Undertaker gave one final, sharp nip and released the abused nub, before he slid down the length of Grell's body, loving the way the redhead's breathing sped, and how he arched up so eagerly against him when he nipped roughly along one hip, successfully teasing him back to full arousal.

Grell groaned around the gag as Undertaker once again drew his tongue ever-so-slowly over the dip of his hip, taunting him in an almost torturous way as he licked just a bit further down, carefully avoiding Grell's now fully-hard member, but getting so close that Grell wanted to scream with frustration. All he could manage, however, was a slight buck of his hips and a high, needy whine as he tossed his head back against the pillow, begging to be touched yet again.

Undertaker loved nothing more than teasing Grell, but even he had his limits when it came to patience. Seeing Grell getting so desperate, so erotically restrained made him overstep a boundary, and, finally, he reached his limit and took mercy on his lover.

Grell groaned in ecstasy as the wet heat of Undertaker's mouth suddenly closed around his member, and despite what he had been told, he found himself biting down on the gag as he tried to stifle titillate groans and the gentle, sympathetic rocking movement of his hips. Despite his best efforts, though, he couldn't help but thrust up against the wondrous, hot enclosure around his need as Undertaker quickly took him in further, his hand moving in time with the motions of his head.

Grell could have sworn that he felt those sinful lips smile around his throbbing organ a second before Undertaker's free hand grabbed his hips and forced them back down against the bed, refusing to let Grell move. Grell groaned in frustrated pleasure as Undertaker finally took him in fully, his muscles twitching in ecstasy and his instincts screaming for him to thrust up and intensify the delicious feeling. However, Undertaker held him firmly in place, and his nails dug painfully into Grell's hip when he sensed his lover's insubordination.

"No no no..." Undertaker breathed as he drew his mouth away from Grell's arousal, his hand still stroking along the length of the slickened organ, his smirk growing as he noticed how much Grell was sweating and panting beneath him, and the needy, almost pained look on his face. "You've had your fun. Now we're doing this my way."

Grell nearly lost himself again at that very moment. The lusty growl in Undertaker's voice and the way he was still catering to Grell's heated arousal was bad enough, but the incredibly seductive way that his eyes glittered as they traveled over the length of Grell's entire body would have sent anyone of lesser will entirely over the edge. Grell just barely managed to keep himself together, and he closed his eyes tightly and leaned his head against one arm as he struggled to hold down the coil of tension in his lower belly. He rubbed against the inside of his arm instead, moaning lewdly around the muzzle as Undertaker continued to stroke him.

He moaned again, in frustration, when Undertaker suddenly released him, and he opened his eyes and watched with growing anticipation as Undertaker slid open the drawer of the bedside table and quickly flipped open a small bottle of lotion. He slicked his fingers with the rose-scented substance, then quickly closed both the bottle and the drawer.

Grell groaned with bliss as Undertaker dipped his head and took in his entire member back into his hot orifice with one swift movement, his slickened finger probing enticingly at Grell's waiting entrance. Grell twitched and mewled as one finger slowly slid inside and began to thrust deeply, making his need twitch in Undertaker's mouth.

With Undertaker still sucking and bobbing wetly at his arousal, his free hand holding his hips down once again as his digit buried itself deeper and deeper inside of him, Grell was moaning wantonly from behind the gag, his eyes closed tightly as he dug his nails into his palms, trying to keep as still as possible to avoid inciting more of Undertaker's torturous denial. It seemed to be working, as Undertaker kept up with his ministrations and added a second finger, beginning to scissor and thrust deeper as he stretched the increasingly-excited Grell. Grell's groans instantly increased in both frequency and volume, and it wasn't long before Undertaker added a third finger, his digits grinding lewdly against Grell as he thrust deep inside of him.

Grell was all but screaming by this point, and keeping still was absolute _murder._ Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to grind back down against the magnificent feeling of his body being taken, stretched and penetrated and possessed... His mind, however, was just barely able to rationalize that Undertaker would probably have some insidious form of punishment in store for him if he dared try to rush things at this point, and he didn't want the amazing feelings to ever stop. Holding back his impending release was getting harder and harder, and the chains of the handcuffs clinked together as he twisted his hands around them and hung on for dear life, his body quivering with the monumental effort of both keeping still and keeping his approaching orgasm at bay.

Thankfully for Grell, though, Undertaker removed his fingers then, his own body shivering with need as he hurriedly kicked off his own boots and removed his pants. He simply wasn't able to take it anymore, and Grell was given just enough of a break to regain himself. But he wasn't left waiting for long, as no sooner had the last scrap of fabric hit the floor than Undertaker was mounting him again, his member rubbing lewdly against Grell's entrance as he slid a hand down either of his subordinate's outer-thighs, making Grell shiver and moan with need as he continued to stroke and rub at his willing victim.

Undertaker dipped his head yet again, and Grell nearly screamed into the muzzle as he licked along the length of his painfully erect member one final time, then slowly, agonizingly drew his tongue up the length of Grell's inner-thigh, cleansing away a final remnant of his previous release, then caressing all the way to his lower, silky calf and nearly to one perfectly formed ankle, before he placed both of Grell's legs onto either of his shoulders. He leaned in slightly, forcing Grell to arch up and back and give him a better angle, before he slowly began to press inside.

Grell's muffled yet still-loud moans and Undertaker's grunts of exertion were all that could be heard, and as Undertaker slowly buried himself up to the hilt and drug a long moan out of both of them, Grell was pretty sure he might die of either pure joy or sheer impatience. He wanted Undertaker to make him scream, to forget his teasing and simply ride him like an untamed thoroughbred. He wanted his elder to make him climb the walls and bite straight through the gag, even if he'd been warned not to. Most of all, he wanted Undertaker, and it showed in the way he broke the rules of his submission and tightened his legs about his lover's broad shoulders, dragging him closer and encouraging him to punish him in the best way possible.

Undertaker seemed more than willing to oblige. His first thrust, long and deep and powerful, made Grell emit a small scream of pure pleasure, his hands tugging against the cuffs as he threw caution to the wind and struggled to get free, wishing to yank his lover close and never let him go.

Undertaker growled gently into his ear, his hands fisting in the blood-red sheets as he continued to thrust deeply, slowly increasing his pace and strength of his pumps. Grell twitched and jerked as Undertaker bit his neck in warning, demanding that he behave, his body thrusting up at the same time and making Grell mewl and writhe beneath him as he struck Grell's sweet-spot, sending a jolt of ecstasy ricocheting throughout his limbs.

Grell moaned wantonly as Undertaker turned his attention to Grell's sensitive nubs once more. He looked down as Undertaker's tongue began tracing circles around the peak, carefully avoiding anything but the faintest, teasing brushes. Grell's eyes were pleading with desire as they met Undertaker's, and Undertaker held his gaze easily, his own emerald orbs glittering with such raw lust that they locked Grell into place immediately. The redhead swallowed, hard, as Undertaker continued to trace those devilish little spirals while meeting Grell's gaze, the faintest of mischievous glints in his eyes. Grell realized why when Undertaker suddenly bit down on his hardened nub, making him jerk and yelp loudly, before melting into loud moans as Undertaker sucked roughly at his swollen peak, his lean, strong body now powering into Grell with every thrust, fueling the redhead toward a hard release.

Grell, indeed, was currently in the throes of the most intense pleasure he'd ever experienced. With his hands chained to his own bed, his mouth muzzled and unable to utter more than the loud, incoherent groans and mewls and soft screams that he was now emitting every time Undertaker thrust forward, and his legs thrown over his lover's shoulders and not able to do much of anything, Grell wasn't able to do much more than lay there and take everything given to him. It was complete and utter submission, and with the combination of Undertaker tapping the most sensitive area of his body with almost every thrust, and the way the handcuffs dug delightfully into his wrists and added sweet pain to the pleasure, and the complete and utter forced-submission to top it all off, Grell knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

Undertaker must have sensed this, as he increased his pace and somehow found the balance to wrap a hand around Grell's neglected arousal as he began to ride the redhead savagely. It was a debilitatingly _wonderful_ triple hit; Grell's prostate was being touched with every rapid, hard thrust, and the delicious sensation of Undertaker's hand sliding rapidly up and down his member while he was still in complete subordination finally threw him far, far over the edge.

Grell's quiet screams increased in both pitch and frequency, and when his orgasm finally crashed over him, he was screaming so loudly that Undertaker wondered, dimly, whether or not they'd be able to hear him out in the hallway, despite the muzzle and the nearly-soundproof walls.

Grell arched clear off of the bed, every last muscle shaking violently as the most intense orgasm he'd ever had wracked his entire body, sending shockwaves to his brain. Every last one of his senses completely whited out, and he threw back his head and closed his eyes tightly as his hot, hard release covered both of their stomachs. His body clenched around Undertaker, who, despite his normally excellent self-control, shuddered and instantly succumbed to both the intense pleasure he felt and the incredibly erotic sight in front of him. With two more thrusts, his seed spilled inside of Grell, a loud moan breaching his lips as he continued to thrust erratically, riding out their orgasms perfectly.

He collapsed, chest heaving, on top of Grell, as all of his limbs had turned to jelly from his incredible climax. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so satisfied, and judging by Grell's quiet, pleasured whimpering, neither could he. Slowly, after taking a long moment that was broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing to catch his breath, he opened his eyes and shakily raised his head to study his lover, dimly wondering what state Grell was in.

Grell's eyes were closed, his entire face flushed a gorgeous rosy color that set off his ivory skin beautifully. His chest was still heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, occasional, shuddering ripples still coursing through his body as he basked in the afterglow of his release. His entire body had a sheen of sweat that set off every perfect curve, and Undertaker thought then that Grell, beautiful as he was, had never looked as gorgeous as he did in that one moment.

Smiling shakily, Undertaker reached up and unhooked the handcuffs at an unhurried, easy pace, slowly letting Grell's hands drop to the pillow that he was currently resting against. He then undid the clasp on the side of the gag and pulled it out of Grell's mouth, loving the sight of his full, swollen lips. He set all the objects aside and leaned down to place a surprisingly gentle kiss on his lover's mouth, and Grell, with the last of his strength, turned and laid against him, nuzzling sleepily into his chest, too exhausted to even open his eyes. Undertaker smiled and wrapped his arms around him, gently tugging him closer, and he wasn't very surprised to find that Grell was already dead asleep.

Undertaker yawned softly to himself as he closed his eyes and nuzzled against the silky ruby locks of his lover, letting out a low sigh of pleasure as he settled against Grell's warmth.

There were three hundred and sixty-four other nights in the year, and three hundred and sixty-four other chances to keep Grell up all night long. For now, he'd settle with holding his sleeping beauty close, and he vowed that nothing was ever going to wrench him away. Not demons, not Shinigami, not Heaven nor Hell itself.

Not even Death. No, not again.

Because Undertaker was never letting go.


	58. Embrace

Ronald knocked on the door of William's room, his cat-like eyes blinking as he inclined his head slightly to the right and read over William's tiny note once again. It was a very vague, simple message, and since it was coming from someone as guarded and straight-faced as William, it was impossible to tell what exactly he wanted; the possibilities ranged from work-related matters to a pleasant chat to another round in the sheets. There was no way to know until he got inside, and he was curious, excited, and even a tad nervous all at once.

He didn't have to wait long, however. True to his brisk nature, William's voice sounded from within the confines of the room within a few seconds of the first knock.

"Come in." He said, sounding as chipper as a man like William could sound; meaning, he sounded polite and calm, but a little less terse than usual.

Ronald obeyed, becoming even more curious when he heard just how relaxed William sounded. As he stepped into the door, he realized why William was so placid, and it was nothing short of baffling.

"W-Will?" He stuttered, rather taken aback by what he saw. His eyes flew wide, and he could do nothing but stare at the sight before him for several seconds.

One blade of William's death scythe was on the ground, very, very carefully balanced, as the pole of the scythe-currently about six feet tall-was, somehow, keeping the death scythe in a perfectly still, upright position. On the other end of the scythe, perched precisely on the blade on nothing but his toes, his hands calmly folded behind his back and his eyes closed, stood William, looking perfectly at ease, though he was currently in a position where even the most minor slip might kill him. Needless to say, Ronald was absolutely horrified to see this, and his jaw dropped as he stared speechlessly at the hair-raising position of his superior.

"Hm?" William inquired softly, cracking one dual-colored eye open at him and studying him calmly. Ronald simply continued to gawk at him, and he took a few more steps inside, very, very carefully, lest he mistakenly cause movement to make the scythe fall. He absently remembered to shut the door (very quietly) behind him, and his voice was hoarse and low with shock and a healthy dose of fear.

"What are you doing?"

"Meditating." William replied quietly, letting his eye slid closed again and letting out a long, content sigh.

"On your scythe?"

"Mhmm."

"You're going to kill yourself!"

"I haven't in the few centuries I've been doing this."

"Are you insane?"

"I blame Sutcliff."

"That is _not_ funny!"

"Calm down, Ronald." William said calmly, finally opening his eyes and giving Ronald a bit of an exasperated look. Ronald nearly had a heart attack when William removed one foot from his precarious perch and carefully lowered it down, jogging the trigger on the handle of his scythe. With a rapid snapping noise, William's scythe promptly retracted, and William wobbled as he went down with it. Ronald thought he might pass out from the overwhelming flood of fear that shot through his body, and before he could stop himself, he let out a whine of worried protest. But, before he could fall, William expertly stepped off to the side and landed harmlessly on the floor, easily catching his scythe as it fell sideways. Ronald simply continued to gawk as William nonchalantly set the scythe on the desk directly next to him, and then turned to face the youth.

Ronald let out a low w_hoosh_ of air that he hadn't even known he'd been holding, his face a tad pale from catching the unexpected show. William watched him for a second, contemplating, then sighed softly and moved forward, closing the distance between them to wrap his arms around the blond.

"Mm!" Ronald grunted as he was suddenly pulled forward and gently hugged to William's chest, his cheeks flushing slightly at the unexpected embrace. It wasn't a cry of protest so much as surprise, and the way he wrapped his arms around William in return only served to prove this. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against William's neck, inhaling the warm, rich scent of the mahogany on William's skin. To his pleasant surprise, there was also a faint, spicy-musky scent of cologne that either hadn't been there before, or that he'd somehow missed altogether. Either way, it smelled lovely, and he had absolutely no complaints about it. He sighed contently, then inhaled again, not even noticing when his own fingers reached up to absently play through the dark-chocolate locks above, effectively mussing his lover's combed-back style to no end.

William was a tad perplexed at that, but, to his surprise, he wasn't really angry with it. In fact, he wasn't even annoyed, and instead, he obeyed his instincts and let his eyes slide closed as he enjoyed the feeling of Ronald's fingers gently running over his scalp. It just felt too... natural to resist, and he found himself relaxing as the blond's gentle strokes continued on for several long, quiet moments. He nuzzled against the golden locks beneath him, vastly enjoying the scent of Ronald's body. It was of cotton sheets and warm, spring breezes and sunshine...

"You scared me..." Ronald mumbled against his bare neck, making him shiver gently at the feeling of the warm breath against his highly sensitive skin. It gently pulled him out of his content, almost sleepy daze and made him open his eyes and pull back just enough to study the beauty leaning against him.

"I assure you that there's nothing to be scared of." William answered coolly, holding back another shiver as Ronald's fingers ran through his hair again, making his skin tingle with pleasure. The blond was still tucked snugly in between his neck and shoulder and had yet to open his own eyes. Sighing softly, William ran his own fingers through the pleasantly-messy, dual-colored hair, resisting a smile as he felt Ronald nuzzle closer to him. "I do it as part of my training regimen, as well. I'm used to it, and it's actually quite relaxing."

"How can you possibly find it relaxing?" Ronald asked skeptically, leaning back to study him. "One little slip and you could... oh..."

He blinked, his hand still in William's hair, as it had been halfway through a languid stroke as he'd raised his eyes. He quickly pulled his hand away, and in the process, mistakenly pulled away from William altogether, his eyes widening with shock.

William's bangs fell forward in wispy spikes, coming to a stop just above his eyes, making their sharp, clear edges stand out marvelously. His hair was neatly cropped at the sides, and combined with his bangs, it set off the slender taper of his jaw nicely. All of this coupled with the fact that William was still dressed so casually-especially in a color that flattered his lithe, strong frame so well-made him look a hell of a lot younger and, indeed, quite a bit more relaxed and less uptight. In Ronald's opinion, it almost made him look like one of-if not the-sexiest people he had ever seen, even if William was currently just standing there and staring at him as though he were an idiot. One fine brown brow was quirked at Ronald, and Ronald was just dimly aware of the fact that William was, apparently, speaking his name.

"Ronald?" William asked for about the fourth time, honestly beginning to get a little worried, as the blond was simply gawking at him as though his brain had snapped clean in two. "Ron-"

He quietly gasped in surprise when Ronald suddenly launched at him, his arms wrapping tightly around William's neck as he crushed their lips together. He stumbled back a bit from the force of it, and his knees went weak and nearly buckled as Ronald took advantage of his surprise and began a heated tongue battle, his piercing dancing fervently over the entire area of William's mouth. William, despite himself, moaned softly into the kiss at the sudden, delicious sensation, and he immediately wrapped his arms around Ronald and pulled him closer, not really knowing what had set off the heated display, and in that moment, not really caring, either.

When Ronald's hands slowly began to search up the back of his shirt, William suddenly realized just what exactly was going on, and, though he did it with great reluctance, he was forced to pull slightly back from the kiss, though he refused to stop playing with Ronald's lips entirely.

"Wait." He gasped, tugging Ronald back with him a few steps until he could reach the scythe on his desk. In a move only William could pull off, he extended the scythe until it reached the door itself, then gripped the end of the chain of the chain lock with the blade and slid it into place with deft precision... all without breaking the kiss.

Ronald had been watching from the corner of his eye, and his couldn't help but be impressed with this. However, he quickly banished such mundane thoughts from his mind as William retracted the scythe and then simply let it drop, before pulling him back a few more steps, and then sitting down heavily in his chair. Ronald straddled William immediately, and the brunette had no complaints, as he gripped Ronald's sides and pulled him closer, eager to finish what they'd started that morning.

"What... started... that...?" William gasped breathlessly into the kiss as Ronald ran his fingers through his hair once more, gently entangling them into the dark brown, smooth locks. He felt Ronald smirk into the kiss, and he jumped slightly when Ronald's knee rubbed gently against his inner thigh, causing a tingling sensation to spread through his loins.

"You look sexy with your hair down..." Ronald gasped as he pulled away, only to trail kisses across William's jaw and to his ear, which he gave a gentle tug with his lips, making the older Shinigami take in a sharp, pleasured breath. "And when you're dressed down, all in black like that... Gods..."

William nearly lost it when Ronald gently blew in his ear, his hands slowly, tentatively searching up his shirt at the same time. In response, he found himself compelled to try out one of Ronald's tricks for himself, and as he began gently nibbling up the side of the blond's neck, he was immensely pleased to hear Ronald's breathing speed with excitement.

Ronald gently nipped the side of William's neck in return, and as he placed the beginnings of a very heated, open-mouthed kiss against the junction of William's neck and jaw, loving the way the brunette was now clutching at the back of his shirt, he heard an all-too familiar "Coo!" and the flap of wings, before none other than Tuft suddenly settled on his head.

Ronald jumped a mile as the startling sensation of those sharp claws against his scalp sent a nervous jitter up his spine, and he instantly pulled away from William, hissing with agitation at the intrusion. He turned his eyes upward and shot a murderous glare at the bird, who clucked quietly and stared cheekily back down at Ronald, showing no shame at all but, instead, what appeared to be smug satisfaction.

"Your stupid bird..." Ronald gritted, continuing to glare hotly at the feathered menace, who now had his chest puffed out and his eyes lidded with happiness, somehow looking twice as pleased with himself at the sound of Ronald's irritation. _"Really_ knows how to kill the mood."

William looked more amused than irritated, and he held back a smile as Ronald crossed his arms and switched his disgruntled gaze to the brunette, wanting him to do something about it. William simply sat up and pet Tuft's head with one finger, making the bird coo softly and tilt his head against the touch for better petting, his eyes blinking closed. Ronald looked less than impressed with William giving the bird attention, and he let out a grumpy huff, making the corner of William's mouth twitch.

"Does he have a note? 'Cause if he bites me again, I'm going to have roasted dove for dinner." Ronald grumbled sourly as William tried to coax Tuft off of his lover's head, admittedly a little annoyed with the way the bird stubbornly burrowed himself into the golden locks, but not showing the blond any sign of it, as Ronald had the most adorable pout he'd ever seen, and he didn't want to ruin it.

"No, no note." William said calmly, his brow furrowed as he continued his minor dispute with his pet, who clicked his beak at William disobediently, though he knew better than to ever bite the brunette. "He... Well, he's extremely fond of soft things, and I believe he's taken a liking to your hair, Ronald."

"Oh, _joy."_ The blond growled as William finally managed to pry Tuft off, giving Ronald the chance to fix the bird with a proper, rather comically cute scowl. "So now I'm going to have a feather-duster with what appears to be a magnetic attraction to my skull following me around, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald." William said, unable to hide the faint note of amusement in his voice as Tuft stared longingly at Ronald's dual-colored locks, as though they were a long-lost friend. "You should take it as a compliment. He's very particular about these things, you know. He won't even do that to me."

"Lucky." Ronald grumbled, continuing to glare bloody-murder at the bird as it attempted to fly back to him. William, however, kept a firm yet gentle grip on one of the bird's feet, and Tuft was forced to remain on his fist, despite a brief second of desperate fluttering. He quickly settled back onto William's hand, however, seeming to know that it was a futile struggle. Instead of continuing to fight, he simply seemed to deflate, as his entire body drooped, and he stared mournfully at Ronald, cooing the softest, most pitiful coo Ronald had yet to hear.

William knew this trick well, as Tuft, like a begging puppy, had used it on him many times, and he'd grown immune to the guilt-trips and sorrowful gazes long ago. Ronald, however, was still very new to the bird, and softhearted as he was, the overly-dramatic display put on by Tuft was more than enough to make him rethink his opinion of the bird in that very instant. Too entertained to interject, William watched as Ronald instantly softened his hard expression, into a small, almost sympathetic frown. As William watched, Ronald reached out a finger and gently pet the bird's head, smiling softly when Tuft ground his beak happily and leaned into the touch, just as he'd done with William.

"I guess he _is_ kinda cute..." Ronald said softly, continuing to gently pet the bird with one finger. William quirked an eyebrow noncommittally and released his hold on the bird. Immediately, Tuft spread his wings and fluttered the short distance over to Ronald's head, fluffing out all his feathers indulgently as he once again nestled into what appeared to be his now-favorite perch.

Ronald sighed, looking a little unimpressed, though not really quite as irritated anymore. William couldn't suppress the smirk that had scrawled across his face, and he covered his mouth with one hand when Ronald turned to him, his voice clipped and exasperated, though no longer what he'd describe as "angry".

"Can we put him somewhere else? Please?" Ronald grumbled, crossing his arms and frowning at William, who was now struggling to hold back the chuckle that rose in his throat, as even he was affected by how cute the two of them looked. "Somewhere he'll stay?"

"Sure." William answered, his hand dropping, though his mouth twitching as he held back the smile that threatened to curve his lips once more. He sat up, and Ronald sat back, and then finally got up, Tuft still perched snugly on his head.

Ronald took William's hand and helped him up, the unexpected but not unappreciated action managing to drag a fleeting smile out of the brunette. Ronald returned the smile and stood very still as William reached out and picked a sleepy-looking Tuft from his head, who cooed in quiet protest, but then yawned, as the evening hour was a tad late for the diurnal little creature. William ignored the bird's complaint, laying a restraining thumb over one of his tiny pink feet and heading toward the back of the suite. Curious, Ronald followed him, then felt his heart speed up slightly when William turned the knob of his bedroom door.

He'd never been inside William's bedroom before, of course, and as silly as it was, he was both insanely curious and rather excited to see what was inside. As William nudged the door open, pigeon in tow, he followed his superior with open curiosity, his eyes sweeping quickly over the entire room.

The big, impressive oak dresser directly to the left of the doorway was second only to the large bed covered in black silk sheets, which reigned in the center of the room with its quiet dominance. The small bedside table, tucked into the corner next to the wardrobe but still within easy reach of the wide bed had a small clock and a long-forgotten, dust-covered book on top, as William hadn't had time for easy-reading in well over a few decades. The bed was just far away enough from the wardrobe to allow for easy opening, but well within reach of the bed as well. Ronald couldn't help but smile; typical William, always so precise in everything, even when it came to furniture.

Across the room, in a discreet corner right next to the large stone fireplace, there was a large, roomy birdcage with a genuine bird nest inside, apparently crafted by the occupant himself, as various soft things such as a small scrap of fleece blanket, a scarlet satin ribbon, and some snatches of cotton cloth lay inside. (Ronald now knew where the strands of hair Tuft had stolen had gone.) Adjacent to the cage, there was a well-kept, rough-surfaced perch, with small bowls for both food and water attached to the side of it. William, bird in tow, approached the cage, and Ronald watched as he opened the spring-lock door and placed Tuft inside his nest. The pigeon turned three circles, sleepily, then collapsed inside of his nest and promptly tucked his head under one wing, instantly dropping off to sleep.

"How's he even get in here?" Ronald asked, coming up behind William and laying his chin on his shoulder, his arms slowly snaking around his waist. William shrugged and looked over at him, his hand slipping up to stroke an affectionate finger over Ronald's jaw as his eyes met the blond's.

"The window panes of a good deal of the Library are rigged to open when he pushes them." William answered absently, not really caring about the aesthetics of his Library's windows nearly as much as the aesthetics of Ronald's body, judging by the way he leaned in to nuzzle the blond's nose while his eyes traveled across the features of the blond's face and over his neck. Ronald smirked and gently pecked his lips, and William shivered when one of Ronald's hands suddenly slipped below the hem of his shirt and began tracing over the curves of his torso.

"So... how'd you hide my kisses, hm? Snitch another tonic or something?" Ronald purred into his ear, his tongue slipping out to trace delicately along the sensitive surface. He was very careful to drag his sinful stud tauntingly along the shell of William's ear, and he smirked with satisfaction when he heard the brunette's sharp intake of breath.

"I wouldn't waste something so valuable on that." William said sternly, though Ronald couldn't possibly take him seriously when William was gripping at his hips like that, subconsciously pulling the blond closer as he spoke to him. "I used a bit of cover-up, that's all."

Ronald smirked, his free hand reaching up to gently brush over the pale skin William's neck, which was now a ghostly, ethereal shade of white, thanks to the moonlight slanting in through the large windows on the wall opposite. William shivered gently against him, and as the minuscule, painless bruises showed themselves, Ronald's fingers came away with a fine powder, a shade or so lighter than his own fingers.

William's paranoia flared then, and he watched Ronald warily, expecting some sort of mockery for something as feminine as hiding hickeys. Ronald, however, simply chuckled gently, and William's eyes slid closed involuntarily as his fingers began tracing spiderwebs on his neck, brushing away what was left of the powder while simultaneously teasing his superior.

"What'd you do that for?" Ronald whispered mischievously, and William was forced to bite back a moan as the blond nibbled enthusiastically at his earlobe. "I put them there for a reason..."

"And what would that be?" William asked breathlessly, finding it hard to breathe when Ronald's hand moved out from under his shirt and to his shoulders, his slim, skilled fingers beginning to rub into the pale flesh with practiced ease. Without the suit that William had been wearing before in the way, and with his neck exposed and the thin fabric of the cotton shirt offering little protection, this massage felt twenty times as good as the last, and William moaned in earnest when Ronald's hands skillfully worked up and then down his neck. He tilted his head to allow Ronald better access, and he shuddered with pleasure when Ronald ran his tongue over his ear again.

_Damn my weak points..._ William's thought as Ronald licked inside his ear this time, making him grip the blond's hips twice as hard as he fought the urge to cry out. _Damn them to Hell itself._

He slit his eyes open when Ronald, his hands never leaving his superior's body, maneuvered around to stand before him, his hands slowly, purposefully working across his shoulders and down his arms. It felt sinfully good, and William let his eyes fall closed again as Ronald's digits switched positions and began to knead into his sides, his body beginning to heat under the assault of those glorious little touches. He offered no resistance when he felt Ronald gently pressing up against him, and he allowed the blond to lead him back, his arms wrapping loosely around the blond's waist without him even having to think about it.

"Let me show you..." Ronald whispered huskily into his ear, his hot breath sending a gentle shudder up William's spine.

He was more than willing to comply.

As he felt the bed bump against the back of his legs, he closed his mouth around Ronald's. His tongue traced around the shape of his lips, requesting entrance as he wrapped his arms around the blond and pulled him closer. Ronald accepted immediately, his arms twining around William's neck, and William allowed himself to fall slowly back onto the bed, gently pulling Ronald down with him.

Ronald gingerly pressed into the kiss, and as William slid an inquisitive hand up the back of his shirt and began to trace slowly along his ribs, he pressed in more forcefully, deepening the kiss tenfold. He released his hold on William's neck, and William moaned gently into the kiss as Ronald traced teasingly over his jaw and across his neck with his fingertips, his brushes sending fire through his veins.

William savored every single second that their lips moved together, the taste and touch and feel of Ronald's every movement against his body. He knew it was inevitable, but all-too-soon, Ronald pulled away from him, his chest heaving against William's as they both panted for air. William's eyes locked with Ronald's in that moment, and he watched as a mischievous, fox-like smile curved Ronald's lips. The blond reached a hand up to William's exposed throat and gently brushed his fingers over the kiss-marks there, making William shiver gently as the younger Shinigami bent to whisper in his ear.

"I have many reasons for putting them there." He breathed, and William felt his face flush slightly as Ronald lovingly nuzzled over the traces of their love-making. "For one, you're smart,"

William blinked in surprise at this, and he blushed as Ronald suddenly leaned up and kissed his cheek, completely catching him off guard. Ronald smiled down at him cheekily, and William was too stunned to say anything as Ronald continued.

"Sexy," William flushed harder as Ronald kissed him again, on his nose, and he blinked owlishly up at the blond, still not quite comprehending what was going on. "Classy," Ronald continued, kissing his brow this time, adoring the way that William continued to flush with both surprise and confusion.

"Selfless, punctual, down-to-earth..."

With every little compliment, Ronald accentuated his point with a kiss somewhere on William's face or neck; with the single exception of his lips. Though he must have given William well over a dozen compliments and praises in the span of a minute or so, not once in his startling show of affection did he kiss William's lips. William couldn't figure out why, but, in all fairness, he was having difficulty puzzling out what was going on, anyway. His reeling mind didn't particularly want Ronald to stop, but what the golden-haired Shinigami was doing had thrown him through a loop. The part that was so hard to believe wasn't the fact that he was currently being smothered in kisses; indeed, the part that was so hard to believe was that he was getting smothered in _praise._ Normally, he was used to getting no more than maybe one or two good words thrown in his general direction a year, but here was Ronald, slathering him with multiple acclamations so sweet that the blond's teeth should have been sticking together. Needless to say, he was rather taken aback, and as Ronald continued to kiss him all over, he continued to turn a steadily darker shade of red.

"But, most of all," Ronald whispered to him, having just called him "sweet" while administering a kiss to his temple, which had made William flush harder than ever. "You're mine."

Finally, Ronald pressed their lips together, and William's eyes went wide, his face still heated and colored with shy flattery, he realized that Ronald wasn't just being his usual, goofy, flirty self.

He was being utterly sincere.

The kiss was too tender, too tentative and gentle to be anything but. Even though Ronald had just praised him like so other person ever had, the kiss was somehow even sweeter than his words. William, somehow managing to recover from his surprise, slowly closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Ronald, pulling him closer as he pressed his lips more firmly against the blond's.

William's tongue traced the contours of Ronald's lips, and Ronald accepted his advance immediately. As their tongues danced and their lips slowly, sensually moved together, William realized that it was now utterly impossible for him to live without Ronald. The way the blond gently cupped his face and leaned into the kiss, the way his warmth seemed to fill William to the core, even the way their bodies fit together...

He would have been a fool to say that Ronald didn't love him.

Or that he didn't love Ronald, with every last fiber of his being.

Slowly, gently, he pulled away from the embrace, meeting Ronald's eyes as the blond gave him a puzzled, slightly discouraged look. Before he could descend into paranoia once again, however, William reached up and took Ronald's hand, intertwining their fingers and gently, reassuringly squeezing.

He held Ronald's gaze for a long moment, and silence reigned between the two as they each paused, holding their breaths as they wondered what the other would do next.

Then, slowly, William leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ronald's throat, his voice quiet and wispy, like a subtle breeze that just barely stirs the grass it sweeps across. Still, Ronald heard it, loud and clear, and his heart warmed and seemed to melt as William finally said what he'd been waiting to hear for what seemed like eternity.

"I love you." William whispered, squeezing Ronald's hand once more as his free arm wrapped tighter around the blond. Ronald blinked as the quiet, almost inaudible message sank in, then closed his eyes and laid his head on William's chest, almost too happy for words.

"I love you too." He answered, his voice just as soft as William's, as the tidal wave of emotion that crashed over him had stolen his breath away.

Neither of them said anything else, but the ensuing silence didn't feel awkward, or unwanted, or uncomfortable in the slightest; on the contrary, it felt utterly right, and as the two of them soaked up the heat of each other's bodies, they both shared one wish:

They wished that the moment would last forever, as everything was too right, even for words.

Ronald wasn't quite sure how long he laid there, or when exactly he dozed off, thanks to the soothing sound of William's heartbeat and the gentle rise-and-fall of his breathing, but he knew one thing for sure; when he woke up again the next morning with the warm sunlight slanting over his face, he was in the same place he'd been the night before, and William was still sleeping so quietly beneath him, his hair tousled and his glasses off, as they had slipped from his face in his sleep. He looked so much younger as he slept, so much gentler and carefree, even if the usual worries and then some were going to settle back over him as soon as he woke up. Ronald felt his heart soar as he studied him, and a small, soft smile crept across his face; though William's peaceful appearance was part of it, it was certainly not the only thing that made him utterly happy in that one moment.

William's hand was still clasped tightly with his own, as though, even in his sleep, he was promising Ronald forever.

And, just how could he refuse?


	59. Intoxicating

We have more fanart, guys! (So sorry that I forgot to throw it into the last chapter. ;w;)

.com/art/In-the-back-shelves-195923034

Anyway, this is by Melloki over at dA, and it's called "In the back shelves". Too cute man, too cute. I wish I could draw/color/shade/generally be awesome like that. D8

Also, this IS NOT C&C fanart. Again, NOT C&C FANART.

But is it awesome?

You bet your ass it is.

.com/gallery/?offset=48#/d31pix8

It's called "See Your Eyes Smiling" by Segda over at dA. I got permission to link it, of course, and I did because it's just fucking awesome, and it's how I see those two lovable psychos in this story. Thanks to ShinigamiLullaby for linking it to me, and thanks to Segda for letting me show you guys! I thought you might like it!

Also, I'm sorry for the massive delays in between updates lately. I'm not meaning to update only weekly or anything. You see, life's been a tad rough on me lately, and it's been hard to get up every morning, much less write. I haven't forgotten about it, of course, it's just that I had some things I needed to sort out, and sadly, it kinda killed my will to write and made turning out chapters more difficult. In short, I wanted to, but I couldn't mash my thoughts together. x-x Guh. I'm repeating myself/rambling again, I apologize.

Anyway, here's your chapter, and I swear I'm going to get back to the one-chapter-a-day rule, come Hell or high water.

By the way, whose OC was Madeleine? D8 I remember the description and everything, but I can't for the life of me remember who requested, and I can't find the PM either. I just need to know so I can give proper credit. So sorry!

Onward!

xxx

Ronald was horribly amused by his little discovery.

William was an extremely still, quiet sleeper, even for a Shinigami. Whereas other Shinigami didn't even appear to be breathing while they slept, William didn't even seem to have a _pulse,_ and Ronald had gotten a bit nervous after a minute or so of simply gazing at that beautifully peaceful look on his face. He looked like the prime example of a corpse that had been all dolled up for a funeral, and considering all the recent mayhem and the way they had just suffered through a massive "burial", Ronald couldn't help but get rather paranoid as William continued to lay utterly motionless, with not even a single wispy, dark-chocolate hair moving upon his brow.

Ronald had decided then that he should make sure that William was still able to walk among them, and he did the first thing that came to mind; he reached up his free hand (as he just couldn't bear to break his lovehold on William's hand just yet) and gently, carefully prodded his neck. He was expecting William to snap awake immediately, or at least make some sort of visible, rigorous stir, considering how sensitive his neck was, and his worry only peaked when William continued his sound snooze, completely oblivious to the outside world.

Unbeknownst to Ronald, William was not only a surprisingly still sleeper, but an incredibly _deep_ one as well. Years upon years of sleepless, work-filled nights and hectic schedules had taught his body to sleep and sleep _hard_ when it got the chance, just to fuel up and store as much energy as possible. This was how William managed when it came to his insane regimen (along with the occasional cup of coffee or shot of alcohol to replace his tea, if he was extra-groggy) and it took nothing short of a small earthquake or some other minor catastrophe to wake him up whenever he was having this good of a nap.

Therefore, it was nothing unusual when he didn't stir, but, of course, Ronald didn't know that. He didn't want to resort to desperate measures just yet, but he got just a little bit more forward in his proddings as he attempted to wake his lover up, or at least make him move. He poked at William's neck again, a tad bit harder, and he chomped down on his lip with anxiety when William continued to lay there, utterly motionless. Frustrated, confused, and quickly approaching a frantic state, Ronald drew his finger up William's neck and over the soft spot just behind his ear, attempting to tickle him back into wakefulness.

He didn't wake up, but he did something that had kept Ronald amused for the last five minutes, and it showed no sign of losing its endearing hilarity any time soon.

As Ronald's finger brushed behind William's ear he had, thankfully, stirred just the faintest amount, but not in the way Ronald had expected. Instead of the faint twitch he'd been hoping for, William, instead, tilted his head the faintest amount against the touch, as though he were trying to get closer. Relief immediately washed over Ronald, but where his paranoia had lain, mischievous curiosity instantly replaced it, accompanied by the flickerings of an idea that was as cocky and risky as it was exciting. Pausing and making sure that William was still dead asleep, Ronald gently touched the spot behind his ear once again, hoping to get another reaction. He was rewarded when William once again inclined just slightly against the touch, just as Tuft had done when he'd been pet the night before. A Chesire grin slowly scrawled itself across Ronald's face, and he slowly, carefully scratched behind William's ear. It was two, gentle movements of his finger, but it was all he needed to set off a world of entertainment.

William didn't just faintly respond to the touch this time. No, he turned his head and leaned into the gentle scratching, making a content "Mm..." noise deep in the back of his throat, just like Tuft when he was getting a particularly good petting, or an old tom cat as it lazily lay in the sun and let its owners pamper it. Ronald bit his lip hard to hold back the giggle that bubbled up in his throat, and he was grinning like a loon when he very carefully removed his hand and repeated the process on the other ear. He immediately got the same reaction, and he really did giggle, softly, when he saw William's ears twitch.

And so, Ronald had just spent what were arguably the five cutest minutes of his life teasing William's ears. Through it all, William was fast asleep, and Ronald knew he may not get a chance like that again for quite awhile, and that William would most likely kill him if he found out what Ronald was doing. He was giggling madly by this point, but William simply continued to slumber away as Ronald continued to scratch and tickle him about the ears, occasionally dragging a small, pleased noise or another happy twitch out of him.

And thus, Ronald was horribly amused by his little discovery.

_Scratch scratch._

_Tilt._

_Scratch scratch, giggle._

_Mmm... tilt._

_Scratch scratch scratch scratch._

_Tiiiiiilt, twitch._

_RIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

Ronald let out a loud squall of surprise as the sudden, rattling blare of a telephone seemed to come from nowhere, and he immediately jerked back, alarm written across all of his features. The slick silk sheets were something that he wasn't used to, and as he yanked away, his body just kept moving, and within a half-second he thudded ungracefully to the floor, nearly jerking a still-sleeping William down on top of him.

This was the sort of morning that would have had anyone else jumping into the air and screaming with shock, as it would most likely set off the alarm bells in one's head that are a prelude to the apocalypse. William, however, had no such reaction at all; Ronald, his rear aching from impact, could only stare stupidly at William as the brunette reluctantly cracked his eyes open, squinting in what appeared to be blind confusion at the noise. Ronald watched as William slowly stretched out his long limbs, further reminding Ronald of an overgrown tomcat, before doing the impossible; he reached under one of the large, fluffy black pillows above his head and produced the handset to a phone from beneath, abruptly halting the insistent ringing.

"This is your wakeup call, Mr. Spears." Said a familiar female voice on the other end of the line. Ronald knew the voice, of course, since he knew pretty much everyone in the Library. It was one of the librarians by the name of Madeleine, who was known for having a strict demeanor when it came to keeping her area of the Library straight. He inclined his head to the side, listening with both evident surprise and curiosity. "That is, if my assumption that we begin work again today is correct?"

"Nnn... Thank you." William answered, his voice adorably slurred with sleep, as he was still struggling to wake up. He paused for a minute, seeming to have trouble thinking, and Ronald noticed how patiently the voice at the other end of the line paused, as though they were used to having to wait on William's early-morning answers. William blinked owlishly for a few seconds, obviously collecting his thoughts, then stifled a yawn and finally, voice still sleep-addled, managed to answer. "And yes, we're working today."

"Well then, I suppose we should get started." The female answered matter-of-factly. "I'll spread the word, Mr. Spears."

"Thank you, Madeleine." William mumbled, and the click and toll of the phone being hung up on the other end was the only response. William didn't complain, and merely lifted the pillow and reset the phone on the hook. He didn't even seem to notice Ronald's presence, even if their hands were still clasped, and Ronald found himself getting more and more baffled-and tickled pink-by the second.

"Will?" He asked tentatively, squeezing his hand to get his attention and trying to hide the smirk scrawling across his face. "...You okay?"

"Mm?" William hummed, blinking sleepily and glancing down in his general direction, though Ronald knew he wasn't able to see a thing without his glasses. Ronald bit his lip to hold back the giggles that threatened to leave him, and he reached over and plucked the glasses from the bed. He leaned up and carefully slid them onto William's face, a bit of laughter spilling from his lips as William finally seemed to recognize him.

"Geez, you sleep like a boulder, don't you?" Ronald said mischievously, his teeth digging farther into his lower lip as he tried to keep back any more of the chuckles threatening to leave him. "You need wakeup calls? How much extra do you pay her to keep that under wraps?"

"Shuddap." William growled sleepily, and Ronald ducked the pillow that was thrown at his head. "And only an extra five, and not to keep her quiet; it's for having the courtesy to be so consistent. I've never woken up late thanks to her knowing how to use a bloody watch. She's one of the few people here who doesn't give me hell on a regular basis and is trustworthy with this sort of thing."

William scowled down at Ronald sourly as he burst into uncontrollable laughter, and Ronald fell backward as another pillow smacked him square in the face, finally forcing him to break his hold on William. He pulled the pillow off and sat back up, still chortling helplessly, though he was currently receiving a very dirty look from a rather irritable William. Ronald was as bouncy as ever, and William couldn't even get his eyes to focus yet. How embarrassing.

"How do you like mornings?" William grumbled moodily, scowling sleepily over at the clock on his bedside table as though it were the source of all his problems. "I bloody well _hate_ mornings..."

"I wake up pretty quickly." Ronald said brightly, in a brilliantly chipper mood that only served to piss William off more. "I kinda have a few problems with insomnia, so once I'm up, I'm up, you know?"

"Good for you." William growled, in nothing less than the polar-opposite of Ronald's current mood. Like all of those who just aren't morning people, his buttons were all-too-easily pushed by those who could endure mornings without the faintest bit of trouble. Call it envy, call it disdain, maybe even call it a hateful form of admiration, but currently, William just wanted Ronald to shut up, get out, and let him go back to sleep. However, that just wasn't possible, as they had something on the agenda that was as unpleasant as it was necessary, and it only served to fuel the fire that was William's early-morning temper.

As had been discussed at the picnic the day before, he had to go to Hell today.

Yeah, today was just going to be _glorious._

"Aww, you want me to go get you something to drink? You're awful grumpy right now." Ronald cooed, sliding up onto the bed next to William and, much to the brunette's utter chagrin, pinching his cheek teasingly. "Coffee or tea or-"

Ronald went cross-eyed as the tip of a butterfly knife was suddenly almost touching his nose, and he froze mid-sentence, his face bleaching white. He flicked his eyes-which were currently large enough to rival Bambi's-to William, who was scowling darkly at him, despite the fact that Ronald was still pinching his cheek.

"Let go of me." William growled dangerously, even if he harmlessly pulled the knife away in a rather contradictory move. Ronald, though knowing that William wouldn't actually hurt him, released his cheek immediately and squeaked an apology. William scowled at him and rubbed at his cheek moodily, glaring at the wall over Ronald's head.

"How'd you do that?" Ronald asked, his voice hushed with awe as he stared at the knife held loosely at William's side. "I didn't even see you move..."

William sighed softly, sounding annoyed, and Ronald jumped as William reached up to chuck him under the chin. He blushed as William's eyes gave a flicker of amusement, but, mercifully, William made no comment about it.

"I'll teach you eventually. If you're going to be my right-hand man, you're going to have to learn a few new techniques." He said matter-of-factly, his mood improving the faintest amount when he saw the eager, excited glimmer in Ronald's eyes, as the blond definitely knew how to take a joke, no matter how... odd William's sense of humor was. He glanced down at the knife in his hand, thinking to himself for a moment, then flicked the blade safely back into place and handed the sheathed knife to Ronald.

"Huh?" Ronald asked, staring down at the knife in his hand, then looking back up at William, who was reluctantly stretching out and putting his feet on the floor to get the day started. William glanced back at him, then turned his attention back to his wardrobe, which he opened with a sweep of his arms.

"Keep it. I never use it at all." William answered nonchalantly, beginning to sort through the many identical suits at his disposal. "It just sits about and gathers dust, I'm sure you'll find something much more interesting to do with it."

"Is it a death scythe?" Ronald asked, flicking the blade out cautiously and admiring the sharp edge of it. William, after another moment of scrutinizing, finally selected a suit that didn't really look all that different from the others and draped it over his arm, turning to face the blond.

"Of course not. I'd have to go through all sorts of paperwork, regulations, and general mayham if I were handing you a new scythe. No, that's an ordinary knife, Ronald. Still, do me a favor and don't poke an eye out or anything." William said tersely, rubbing at his temple as he set the suit on the bed and let out a tired sigh.

"Thanks..." Ronald said quietly, running an admiring finger along the length of the knife, then turning his eyes back up to William as the brunette sat down next to him. There was a soft, adoring smile on his lips, and William's bad mood dispelled a little at the sight.

"You had better go get dressed, then." William said, hiding the warm stirring in his chest and meeting Ronald's gaze seriously, before turning his attention to the floor, not looking thrilled at all. "You remember the plan of action, don't you?"

Ronald groaned and rolled his eyes, and William let a rare, fleeting smirk cross his face; at least Ronald seemed to share his hatred for the demons. Ronald laid a hand to his face, covering his eyes, obviously highly displeased with the reminder.

"Oooh, that, yeah. _Man_ this is gonna _suck."_ He complained, stowing the knife in his pocket and crossing his arms, that adorable pout on his lips again. "Why do we have to go down there, anyway? I know you don't want them here and all, but really..."

"Because before we start building back our own ranks, we need to let them repopulate enough to match our number. Then we go from there, and we need to be careful and keep the numbers as even as possible. In short, it's easier just to create a few new demons now than several more later." William said frankly, though there was a grimace of displeasure on his face. "Right now, we're just going to monitor the number they create today. We had a hundred and fifty-four Shinigami to begin with, but since we lost eighty-three in combat," William continued, pausing as the memory of battle swept over him again, painting a faint flash of pain on his features. Ronald frowned, studying him with pursed lips, then reached out and wrapped a comforting arm around him. To his pleasant surprise, William leaned his head on his shoulder and took a deep breath, steadying his voice before continuing. "So we have seventy-one Shinigami now, including the two of us. There's currently two demons in existence, so we need to bring sixty-nine more of the things into the world before we begin creating new Shinigami." William said, not bothering to hide the note of disgust in his voice, though Ronald had the feeling that he might still be aching at the memory of his lost creations, judging by the way he was so tense beneath him.

"But how are we supposed to do that if the Mortal Realm is frozen right now?" Ronald asked, honestly rather confused. "I thought placing the Death Bookmark in the Everlasting Book froze up time there?"

"It does." William said matter-of-factly, sitting up straight and proper once again to clarify, though he didn't shrug away the arm still wrapped around him. "I apologize, I know it was only mentioned in passing yesterday. You see, what we're going to have to do is remove the bookmark and allow them to head back to the Mortal Realm to... 'acquire recruits', so to speak."

"But... didn't you guys say that without the Bookmark, the Mortal Realm would get out of control, and then the world would end, because right now, the Balance is off and we wouldn't be able to handle it?" Ronald asked, still quite perplexed by it all. though the pieces were slowly fitting together. William shrugged, not seeming so bothered by it, but not seeming very eager, either.

"Only if we left it out for a prolonged period of time, as that would be the long-term affect, because that would only happen if too many uncollected souls built up." William explained. "If we only took it out for an hour or so and allowed them to create a certain number of demons within that allotted time frame, and did that until we had the appropriate amount of eyesores at hand, then it shouldn't set off anything too adverse. As long as the total amount time they spend turning people doesn't exceed about twenty-four hours, we shouldn't have a problem... besides new demons, of course."

Ronald laughed and wrapped his other arm around William, kissing his cheek and giggling harder when he saw William flush with his usual shyness. William carefully avoided his gaze, still looking rather grumpy, and Ronald knew he couldn't have had a cheerier morning.

"Well, I guess it's one of those 'necessary evils', huh?"

"You can say that again." William growled disdainfully, scowling distantly at the wall across from them. Ronald smiled softly; it didn't seem to matter what William did anymore, he just ended up being utterly endearing or just downright sexy in Ronald's eyes. Ronald doubted he could ever get upset with him; not even if he tried.

William sighed and gently nudged him off, and Ronald looked at him, unease written all over his face as an apologetic glint flashed in his eyes, as he was suddenly worried that the hug coupled with all the fond teasing had gone too far for William's strict boundaries. William, however, simply gave him a reassuring pat on the hand and stood up.

"You'd better go get dressed, or you'll be late for your shift." He said, glancing over at the clock and then back to Ronald. "I warned you that I'm not allowing your status as my significant other be a valid excuse to break the rules, didn't I?"

Ronald blinked, then smiled and stood up himself, starting for the bedroom door.

"Yeah, you did." He said, stopping to kiss William's cheek as he passed, earning another faint flush from the brunette. "And I'll listen, I promise."

Ronald took another step toward the door, but he gave a startled blink as William suddenly caught his arm and gently tugged him back. He looked up at his superior with honest surprise, and William quirked an eyebrow down at him.

"Do me a favor and just use a portal." William said, releasing his arm. "I don't want to take the risk of anyone seeing you leave, you know?"

"But I thought that was against the rules, and you weren't letting me get away with any exceptions?" Ronald asked, winking teasingly at him. William allowed himself a small smirk in return, and it was Ronald's turn to flush as William gently reached up and caressed his cheek.

"Technically, neither of us are in uniform, nor have we clocked in yet. The day hasn't officially begun, Mr. Knox, and I'm not yet required to take action against you if you break a rule. The key word there is 'required', and correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that means that I have the choice to be lenient, since we're not yet on duty?"

Ronald couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, and he leaned up and nuzzled William's cheek, his voice teasing and light.

"Is that in the rulebook?"

"Indeed it is. So out of the kindness of my black, shriveled little heart, I'm going to let you off the hook. I'm not one to bend the rules, but loopholes can be rather useful, can't they?"

Ronald laughed jovially and turned away from the door, heading for the wall and placing his hand against it.

"Yeah, they are. I should really read the rules one day."

Ronald grinned as William gave him a bit of a dirty look, and as the beginnings of the bright blue portal appeared, William suddenly crossed the distance between them and gently pulled Ronald forward, before he pressed their lips together. It distracted Ronald so badly that the unripened portal disappeared, and he instead linked his arms around William's neck, dragging him closer.

Knowing all-too-well what would happen if he allowed it to get too intense, William had no other choice but to gently push Ronald away after a few seconds, even though they both regretted it. He and Ronald locked eyes for a second, and William's lips tugged up into a tiny, apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I had to get that out of my system." He said softly, drawing slightly back from Ronald. Ronald, however, held onto him stubbornly, and William could only stare down at him with mild surprise as he spoke again, a small note of desperation in his voice.

"Will... please don't _ever_ be sorry for kissing me." Ronald said meekly, his eyes pleading up at the brunette as he reached up to gently stroke William's cheek. William blinked, then allowed his smile to grow the faintest amount, his mood rapidly getting better when he saw Ronald return the gesture.

"Well, then, keep that in mind." William said matter-of-factly, and bent to kiss him again.

"Because you're really just intoxicating."

xxx

Meeeh super short fluffy chapter was more of another info-dump than anything. Sorry to disappoint you, guys after such a long wait. ;w;


	60. Shenanigans

I'm really, really, _really_ sorry for the huge delay, guys. Three weeks is a really big, ironic wait, considering that I just said in the last chapter that I'd try to be back soon, and I can't say how sorry I am. The last two and a half weeks or so have been absolute hell, though. Most everyone I know IRL has been giving me the proverbial middle finger lately, and I've been having a hard time with that. The weekend before last was the cherry on top of the shit cake; my mother's boyfriend's trailer burned down (yes, trailer. I'm sad to say that I live in the American south. Don't laugh, I hate it here.) and he lost most everything he had. Thankfully, no one was hurt, as it occurred at 2 a.m. and there was no one inside. Still, he's one of the very, very few decent boyfriends she's had, so it hits a bit harder for me.

One of my pet rats, Monterrey, died from a bad case of Mycoplasmosis a few hours after the trailer incident. I feel it's my fault because I postponed the vet appointment two days longer than I should have to appease my mother and her stupid fishing trip, and I didn't get him help in time. R.I.P. Monty; I'm so very sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, because I don't know what I'd do without you waiting on the Rainbow Bridge for me. I promise to take good care of your brother Jack. He's got a new friend named Colby, and he's getting better fast, thanks to the medicine that you never used, because I ran out of his and needed just a little more. In a way, you're still helping him too, love. Please don't worry about him, wherever you are; I won't ever make that mistake again.

On top of it all, I couldn't be with Monty when he passed because I was visiting my father (who's been divorced from my mother for quite some time). I see him every other weekend, and I'll be honest and say that I don't really like going there. For a few months, though, it was starting to get better, and I didn't exactly dread it like I used to. However, that weekend, after being three months sober, my alcoholic father not only relapsed and got smashed, but he nearly got into a fist fight with his girlfriend. Thankfully, the two of them had neither the balls nor brains to do it, and they passed out soon afterward.

Anyway, that was two weekends ago, and these last few weeks haven't helped at all, and this weekend was even worse than the last. v_v Again, I'm really sorry, guys, but I honestly just didn't have the will to write. I need something to take everything off my mind, though, so I'm going to buckle down and get back into the groove of things, I swear.

In other news (that doesn't concern my pathetic whining) Madeleine belongs to our lovely coffincreep, and Yori (upcoming in this chapter) is motomori's. Also, there's some more fanart!

.com/art/Grell-and-Undertaker-199461260

It's by SiriusC over at dA, and it's entitled "Grell and Undertaker" (simple and to the point, no? XD) Gotta love the airbrushy feel to it, and I adore their smiles!

.com/#/d3b1r9m

That one is by SiriusC as well, and it's simply called "Sketch: GrellxUndertaker" (I try to be exact with names so that they're easier to find.) Too adorable, really. 3 Grell's shyface can make anyone d'aww.

Anyway, again, I'm sorry, and I hope I can get my crap together and finish/fix this story so we can get to the sequel already. x-x In case you guys are curious, that plot will involve plenty of WillxRon and UTxGrell, ten times more demon action, and a hundred times more action in general (imo, anyway. XD). The idea's been gnawing at my brain for awhile now, going "WRITE ME ALREADY DAMMIT!", so I'm quite anxious to do so, and expel these little brain-Gremlins once and for all.

xxx

Grell raised his head sleepily at the sound of knocking at the main door of his room. (It was, of course, his room on the first floor, as he hadn't had the time yet to move all of his belongings back to his rightful place in the Higher Officer Wing.) He squinted his eyes, the world amazingly blurry without his glasses, and then grumbled and rubbed groggily at them, knowing that it was most likely William or Ronald or someone of the like waking him up so he could, once again, start another hellish day of paperwork. He scowled at the bedroom door and laid his head back down stubbornly, letting his heavy eyelids fall closed once more. Truth be told, Grell couldn't be bothered with anything but the warm, comfy bed and the even warmer, cozy body curled up next to him.

He felt a shifting in the bed next to him, and he reluctantly raised his head once more as he felt said cozy body's scarred chest press gently against his back, and then Undertaker's arm wrapping around him and giving him an affectionate squeeze. He looked over at the elder Shinigami, giving him a tired smile, which Undertaker returned, before several more knocks rang out, causing Grell to sigh with irritation and flop back down onto the pillow.

"I don't _want_ to go to work!" Grell whined childishly, voice slurred with sleep as he buried his head under the pillow and hugged it over his ears to block out the noise. "Just five more minutes..."

"Gufufu~" Undertaker snickered to himself, tracing a small circle on Grell's upper arm as the redhead continued to grumble softly from beneath the soft red pillow. "You do remember what we're doing today, don't you?"

Grell stirred after a long moment, reluctantly pulling the pillow off of his head and tossing it at Undertaker's face, a playfully sour look on his own. Undertaker snickered as he caught it, tossing it over his shoulder and taking the opportunity to pull Grell closer and nibble on his ear.

"Eeee! Stop that!" Grell squealed, suddenly wide awake and giggling and writhing beneath him as he tried to squirm away. Undertaker smirked and simply gripped his hip to pin him, nibbling vigorously down his neck and then to his collarbone and back again. Grell giggled harder, struggling to twist away and shove him off, but Undertaker merely continued to hold him down and tease him until he was sure that Grell had absolutely no chance of falling back asleep.

When he was satisfied, (after nearly a minute of Grell's now insane, all-too-cute giggling) he finally let Grell go and laid his head on his chest, a mischievous smirk on his face as he looked up at the redhead, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Grell scowled halfheartedly back down at him, then let out an exasperated sigh as several more, loud knocks rang out. There was really no chance for him to sleep-in now, and he groaned as he sat up and stretched, yawning widely.

"Nnn... Don't we go to see Sebas-chan and his little brat today?" Grell inquired wearily, shaking out his long red locks and doing his best to ignore the loud, irritated rapping on his door. "Something about 'demon maintenance', according to Will?"

"Yep." Undertaker said cheerily, taking his own time in stretching out his limbs, even though they could now hear the muffled sound of the aforementioned Head Shinigami yelling at them through the door. "To Hell we go, I suppose. I'd suggest hurrying up, though; it sounds as if William's about to tear down the door, and then we're _really_ going to hear it."

"Let him, it's not anything I'm not used to." Grell said, waving a dismissive hand, and grinning wickedly over at the mortician. Undertaker grunted in mild surprise as Grell suddenly rolled over on top of him with a giggle and a mischievous glint in his eye, his red fingernails gently scratching over the skin of Undertaker's hips. Undertaker smirked in return, his hands coming up to sensually stroke over Grell's sides, making the redhead shiver eagerly.

"So... how long do you think he can wait?" Undertaker purred, trailing gentle nips and kisses up Grell's neck and onto his face. The redhead giggled daintily and pecked him on the lips, and he was just about to reply when there was the sound of the front door being kicked in, and then William's obviously flustered voice from the main room of Grell's suite.

"Will you hurry up? It's nearly ten O'clock and I've been knocking for almost three minutes!" William snapped. Grell shot an almost disgusted look at the door, but Undertaker merely grinned and chuckled softly to himself, a devious glint in his eyes.

Whatever he was thinking, it was most likely very socially unacceptable.

"You could have just come in. Why do you always assume that we're up to something we shouldn't be, hm?" Undertaker said cheerily, pressing a finger to Grell's lips to keep him silent as Grell gave him a quizzical, "but-we-_are_-breaking-the-rules,-you-spoilsport" sort of look. "It hurts my feelings."

There was a short pause as William considered this, and then the bedroom doorknob turned and the door was pushed in. As William put one foot inside, intent on proving Undertaker wrong, the mortician in question grabbed Grell and crushed their lips together. It caught both Grell and William by surprise, and both froze in their tracks as the silver-haired menace made his move.

Grell, once he comprehended the situation, simply shrugged and joined into the kiss as if having your boss walking in on your intimate moments with your partner was nothing unusual at all. William, however, flamed red as soon as he realized what he was staring at, and Grell felt his lips curve into a smile against Undertaker's as the mortician sniggered wickedly to himself.

The door slammed shut again, and William's voice was accusing and nothing short of highly embarrassed and/or _pissed_ when he spoke again.

"I thought you said you weren't up to anything!" He accused, and Grell pulled away with a helpless giggle; he could almost hear the blush in William's voice, and judging by the way Undertaker was chortling beneath him, he thought the same. "Just what are you getting at? That is e_xactly_ why I don't trust you!"

"I never said we _weren't_ up to anything, I asked why you always assume that we a_re."_ Undertaker said cheekily, biting his lip to hold back his snickers as Grell immediately burst out laughing. They heard an irritated, flustered hiss from William then, and the sound of the flustered brunette stalking through the main room.

"Just shut up and get out here within the next five minutes. They're expecting us before ten thirty, and I am _not_ letting you make me look like a fool in front of those wretched demons!" He snapped, then paused sharply, obviously checking himself. "And make sure you're decent!"

Undertaker finally lost it as the first door slammed shut, and he and Grell simply clung to each other and laughed until they cried.

000

Ronald was leaning against the wall outside of Grell's room as he waited on William, his eyes cheerily bright and turned up toward the ceiling, as he was certainly in no sort of hurry. Both he and the brunette were once again dressed in their usual office attire, and Ronald couldn't help but be a little disappointed that he had been forced to don his round, boyish glasses once more. To be honest, they weren't the _worst_ pair he'd ever seen, but they certainly weren't the best, either, and he couldn't help but wish that he had something a little bit more sophisticated.

He was just musing over this (as well as what he wanted for breakfast when his stomach rumbled) when he heard the definite sound of William's irate voice, and he looked up as his red-faced superior suddenly swung the door open and then slammed it shut. He was blushing furiously, and he leaned against the wall next to Ronald, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to keep his composure.

It was official; William and mornings mixed about as well as oil and water.

"Quick," he growled lowly, bracing against the wall for support as he crossed his ankles and laid one arm over his chest, supporting the other elbow as he continued to grip his nose and breathe deeply. "Distract me, before I commit Shini-cide."

"Uh..." Ronald drawled, giving William a bit of an uneasy look as the older Shinigami took another long, deep breath and let it out slowly; through clenched teeth. "What happ-"

"That's not a distraction." William gritted, shooting Ronald a razor-sharp look as the blond edged back a few steps, knowing just from his tone that he'd overstepped a line. Ronald held up his hands submissively, as William was only a _little_ less deadly than a hidden spike pit when he was in this foul of a mood.

"Okay, okay, sorry..." Ronald began, dropping his hands and rubbing the back of his head nervously, his mind running laps as he tried to come up with a legitimate question. "Umm... So, how do you create new Shinigami, anyway? You said you were going to tell me earlier, but you never got to it."

This inquiry seemed to satisfy William, who paused, then slowly dropped his hand and crossed his arms properly over his chest. He glanced about them, making sure that they were alone-obviously not wishing to make his next move too obvious-then shot one last look at Grell's door. He sighed to himself, then stood away from where he was leaning against the wall and motioned for Ronald to follow.

"I have a few people working on that at the moment, actually, even if they... aren't aware of their assistance." He said, receiving a quizzical glance from Ronald as the blond loyally fell in step next to him. William simply shrugged slightly as he lead the way out of the Lower Officer Wing. "You'll see when we get there."

"What about those two?" Ronald asked, glancing back at the door that they were rapidly distancing themselves from. "Aren't they going with us?"

"Yes, but I've got a feeling that they won't be... _out,_ for awhile." William answered tersely, his teeth gritting slightly as he turned a tad pink and pinched the bridge of his nose once again, the glint of the light bouncing off of his glasses hiding his eyes. "I'm sure they'll be ready once I've showed you what I need to show you."

"Oh..." Ronald mumbled, flushing a bit himself as he got some mental images that he really would have preferred to avoid. He ducked his head and chewed at his lip; thinking about your best friend getting laid was less than fun. "Uh... So where are w_e_ going, anyway? I mean, if we're not going to Hell without them, then-"

"We're merely going to check out some books, Mr. Knox." William said simply, holding the door to the wing open for the blond, having to check himself to avoid letting the word "Ronald" slip his lips, as business etiquette said that he had to remain formal, of course. "It's easier to explain when I can demonstrate while doing so."

"If you say so, _boss."_ Ronald said with a wink, not missing a beat as they strolled out into the main section of the Library, where all the precious books were stored and ordered precisely on the shelves, just as they had always been, even before the tragedy of the war.

William gave Ronald a bit of a look, but otherwise said nothing as he lead him through the aisles of towering shelves to a rather remote corner of the Library, the sounds of their shoes echoing softly back at them as they bounced back from the polished wood. They rounded another corner amongst the many shelves after a quiet minute of travel, and the two came to a stop as they finally met up with whom William had apparently been searching for.

There stood two red-haired female officers, who were carefully selecting books from the shelves around them and, occasionally, loading them onto a small trolley that was already heaping with books. The smaller of the two was one of the higher-ranking librarians, with chin-length, curly red hair, heart-shaped bangs framing her slender face, and a petite frame. The other was a lower-level officer, a few inches taller than the former, with slightly longer, gently wavy hair that reached just past her shoulders and simple, blunt-cut bangs that framed her eyes. The smaller of the two had large, rounded frames to her glasses, while the other's were squared and younger-looking.

Ronald watched as the small librarian cracked open a book and quickly thumbed through it, and when she began muttering to herself, Ronald recognized the voice that had been on the phone with William about a half-hour earlier.

"Twenty-five, twenty-five... Blast, this one was over forty." She grumbled, slipping the book back into its designated place and quickly selecting another. "I hope you're having more luck, Yori?"

"Not really." The taller of the two answered, neither of them having noticed the Head Shinigami and his ever-loyal blond lackey just yet. "Those are some pretty hard criteria to meet. What's he want all these books for all of a sudden, anyway? He hardly ever checks a_ny_ out..."

"I'm not sure, but I'm not one to question it." Madeleine answered briskly, replacing the second book and snatching a third, her dual-colored eyes rapidly scanning over the pages within. "I'm not paid to dilly-dally or disobey orders, and neither are you."

"Wisely put, Ms.. I'm not one to hand out classified information so readily." William's cool voice calmly interjected, causing Madeleine's eyes to snap up from the book, and making poor Yori squeal with surprise, her own book falling from her hands and thudding onto the floor.

"Mr. Spears! Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" She stammered, before William quietly held up a black-gloved hand to silence her. The redhead instantly bit her lip, going as silent as a grave, clearly trying to ignore the foul look Madeleine gave her as she scooped up the precious book and slipped it back onto the shelf.

"Save your breath." He said, readjusting his glasses with his scythe and glancing down at Ronald as he spoke. "I'm merely tutoring my newly-elected vice-president, and a demonstration on Shinigami creation is in order." He explained, his eyes flicking back to the two of them. "However... unfortunate the circumstances may be, it's the prime-time to show him how he'll be helping me rebuild our ranks. Since it's not something you master overnight, and what you'll be witnessing are only the very bare essentials of how to create a new officer, I hope you'll take no offense when I say that I seriously doubt you'll be able to do anything of great importance with the information given. Besides, on the off chance that you _did_ manage to somehow cause trouble, I'd know exactly who to punish, and I can assure you that the repercussions will be severe. Therefore, I'd appreciate it if you'd continue working while I show Mr. Knox what he needs to know. We've got a lot to do today, and there's really no room to waste time trying to find an empty office or something of the like; we're waiting on Sutcliff and the Undertaker, as it is."

"Nothing to worry about there, Sir, not at all, seeing as I have no interest in that business whatsoever, and I'm very certain that Yori doesn't, either. We'll finish up with this aisle and move onto the next as we planned. Pay no mind to us, Mr. Spears." Madeleine answered briskly, reaching for yet another book. "I shudder when I think of my last apprentice, I'd hate to see the mess if I'd try and create one from scratch. No, I believe any Shinigami worth their scythe will have the sense to leave that to you, Sir, and wisely so."

Yori, as predicted, seemed just as disinterested as Madeleine, but for entirely different reasons. She was peering around William, looking at Ronald with a bright, friendly smile on her face, her smile only growing when Ronald gave her a cheery wave of greeting. She'd zoned out of the conversation after she'd heard the news of Ronald's promotion, and judging from what little snatches she _had_ heard, nothing that had been said was really any of her business, anyway.

"Vice-president, huh?" She asked, staring at him with apparent awe, her eyes seeming to take up half her face when Ronald merely grinned and shrugged in response, shoving his hands into his pockets as a small flash of pride crossed his face. "Even after what you did when we were training?"

Ronald's smile vanished like a fox into the underbrush, and William shot him a look that could've boiled water.

_Lie your way out of this, or I'm going to tie you stark-naked to a tree somewhere in the middle of Australia and leave you there. _The look said in the span of two seconds, and Ronald gulped, his mind whirring as he gave Yori the best, most pitiful face he had, praying that so many years of using it as one of his prime flirting tactics would pay off in the face of a small crisis.

"I wish you hadn't brought that up," He said in a bit of a loud whisper, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and nodding slightly towards William when his superior looked away and cleared his throat sharply, as though they'd actually rehearsed this. "He's still really pissed about it... You wouldn't _believe_ the work he's made me do to make up for the whole thing..."

"Language, Knox." William growled, cuffing him upside the head lightly, making the blond drop his hand and stand at attention, giving William his best apologetic smile. "How many times do I have to tell you? I swear, I should give you three-quarters of my work, and not just half."

"Hmph, serves you right." Madeleine sniffed a tad scornfully, giving Ronald a disapproving look over her shoulder. "Always chasing after people like that, and then having the gall to just run up and kiss the highest-ranking officer here, as though you've been together for years... you always _were_ quite the rogue, Mr. Knox."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Ronald." Yori mumbled, flushing a bit when William gave her a mild look as well. "Well, at least you still got promoted, right? It's a really big honor..."

"Only because he knows how to clean a mess up, even if he doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself." William growled in Ronald's direction, and the blond shrank back submissively. William shook his head and let out a quiet, theatrical sigh. "And I suppose that his work record is one of the best here, even if he's much more lax with his free time... Which brings me back to the matter at hand; I trust you've collected the books I specified?"

"No soul who was under sixteen or above twenty-five. No one rich, no one overly pretentious or pompous, and no one with an overall poor disposition or record of heavy or frequent crimes. These were the criteria you gave me when you wanted me to find some books for you, correct, Mr. Spears?"

"Precisely. Those are the prime souls for the entire procedure. Did any one of them in particular stand out to you?" William responded, toying with his glasses again as his eyes surveyed the overloaded cart critically, as though he wasn't really expecting a good deal of it to be useful at all. Madeleine nodded tersely toward Yori, who plucked a book from the top of one of the taller piles and politely handed it to William.

"Aged twenty-three at death; an innocent bystander who died in the midst of a fight between two rival gangs, he was stabbed in the chest and bled to death. His name was Gregory Jackson, and he lived a life of poverty, but had a fairly clean record, despite some petty thefts that consisted mostly of food from merchant bins. Nothing major, seeing as it was more out of a will to survive than cause harm, the poor soul." Madeleine reported dutifully. "It was nearly a picture-perfect fit, Sir."

"We'll see about that." William said skeptically, opening the book and thumbing to a page. "Please pay attention, Mr. Knox, as I have much to teach you and I don't wish to waste time by repeating myself. This is step one, and I'm going to be brief, but it's very important that you know _exactly_ what to do."

"Yes, Sir." Ronald answered meekly, stepping closer to him (but being sure to keep a formal distance, as he was pretty sure that he'd just squirmed his way out of accidentally making their relationship open) and watching every move. The other two officers seemed to be doing the same, as Yori edged a tiny bit closer, her eyes wide with anticipation as she fiddled around with the books in a halfhearted attempt to look like she was working, and even Madeleine had paused her busy booksearching to peek from the corner of her eye.

William placed two fingers against the page and drew them upward in a quick, sharp, commanding motion. Immediately, a blue, transparent reel of film burst forth from the page and swayed gently to and fro in the air, a subdued clicking noise filling the space around them. William let his ever-sharp eyes sweep over the many scenes and snippets of the mortal's human life, their story backing up Madeleine's summary as, clip-by-clip, they floated lazily into the air to retell their tale.

William gave Ronald a slight nudge with his elbow, bringing the mousy-haired youth out of the trance-like state he was in as he stared, seemingly hypnotized, at the mortal's story. Ronald jumped slightly, then flushed as William pointed at the film matter-of-factly, his voice calm and authoritative and pointedly ignoring Ronald's mild embarrassment.

"As Madeleine said, this is a prime soul, as these souls are much less likely to be spoiled and petty and more likely to be willing and able to do hard work without being a threat to their coworkers due to dangerous behavior. Now, in order to begin to create a Shinigami, one must gently grasp the Cinematic Record," He said, gently pinching the ghostly bit of reel between his thumb and forefinger, then giving it a very gentle tug for emphasis. "And be very, _very_ careful not to tear it or force it out. I'm not completely positive as to whether or not it would lessen the quality of the soul, but I don't wish to take chances. Instead, if you're patient and careful, the Record will come out easily enough. Once it's free from its Book, it cannot go back, and it doesn't resemble a reel of film anymore. Instead, it becomes what all Shinigami are when we're reduced to our most natural forms; an iridescent orb of light that can manipulated into the shape of a new officer. I'd rather not go into specifics with that right now," He said, glancing at the two redheads, who quickly ducked their heads (as they'd both been reduced to staring at this point) and began turning pages at lightspeed. William merely shook his head and carefully closed the book, turning his attention back to Ronald as he did so. "But it's fairly easy if you know how to change your own bodily form, as that's merely modifying your soul makeup. It's how Sutcliff went into disguise in the Mortal Realm, and I must give him credit for that, as it's not an easy skill. Do you know how to alter your form, Mr. Knox?"

"No..." Ronald admitted, feeling himself blush a bit harder at it. The vice-president not being able to do what his own subordinate could and had been doing for what had been, apparently, quite a few years? Rather embarrassing, indeed. "No, I'm afraid not, Sir."

William simply sighed softly and replaced the book on the cart, giving the female officers a bit of a look when he noticed them peeking again, the look sending them back into motion immediately. He glanced back at Ronald calmly, not seeming at all bothered by Ronald's inability.

"Well, I'll just have to teach you, then." He said simply, frowning just the faintest bit when he saw Ronald scuffle his feet with embarrassment. "The soul orbs only need a slight nudge to get them going, and then they shape themselves into Shinigami that resemble their human forms. As soon as you can do something like, say, change your hair color, you should be able to get the ball rolling. Don't fret, Mr. Knox; transformation's not something you learn overnight, and certainly not every day. Most everyone didn't even know that you _could_ change your form until Grell pulled his little stunt, and I didn't want to teach anyone else after that, lest I have another avalanche of paperwork on my hands due to people abusing their power." He said, readjusting his glasses with his scythe. "Even I haven't totally mastered it; Grell could only change the very basics of his appearance, and I honestly can't do much more than that. I'd say that Undertaker is really the only one who's advanced at it in any way, shape, or form. Though, I haven't seen him do it in centuries, so take that as you will.

"But, I digress. I can handle creating them with no problem, I just need someone to help me review the Records and find the good ones, and that's where you come in, as it takes a rather long time to thoroughly review them all and find the best of the best." William concluded, his face straight when Ronald finally looked back up and gave him a slight smile, though he felt his mood immediately become a little lighter. "The rest will come with time, and I've got no qualms with daily training, if that's what you wish."

"Alright... I can manage that, no problem." Ronald chirped confidently, as chipper as ever once again. William lifted an eyebrow at this, and Ronald was quick to lower his voice when he spoke again. "But... I do have one question, Sir."

"And what is that, Mr. Knox?"

"What happens to the books when the Cinematic Record is removed? Do they just disappear?"

"No. I have my own use for them, and it has come in very, very handy as of late." William said, stroking one finger down the spine of a nearby, shelved book. "The pages aren't very useful when they're blank, but they are highly durable, so I use them for the most important documents that I need to keep for a very long time, such as reports on things like the recent... incidents. The covers and binding is where the r_eal_ treasure is, though." He said, the slightest inclination of pride working into his voice as his finger paused mid-stroke on the spine of the book. "When unbound and unwoven and processed until they're not much more than fine yet strong threads, they make very excellent stitches for a very particular sort of wound."

Ronald blinked as he digested this, and then his eyes lit up, and his mouth curved into a massive, I-catch-your-drift sort of smile.

"Ooooooh! I get it! Since the books naturally bind Cinematic Records to themselves, and the Cinematic Records are just a form of a soul, and since we're just a_nother_ form of soul..."

"The bindings of the books can hold us together as well." William said, the pride in his voice a tad more evident now, enough to be noticeable to anyone who was observant. "And the crazy, lovable old git we know as Undertaker has yet to figure that out, even though he has more stitches than the average bolt of cloth."

Ronald couldn't help but laugh, and Yori joined in the giggles with him, pressing a hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle the tittering noise. They both received a rather nasty look from Madeleine who, like all the world's strict librarians, valued silence second only to the all-important care of her precious books. William gave them a bit of a glance as well, not looking impressed, but, unlike Madeleine, not annoyed enough to bother reprimanding them, either. Ronald bit his lip hard and balled his hands into fists as he faced William again, an apologetic look on his face, even though he was still having a little trouble containing his mirth, despite the fact that he was doing his very best to quail his laughter. William simply shook his head with mild exasperation, and then nodded toward the two females, ignoring the fact that the taller of the two was currently being scolded by her superior.

"Thank you very much for the help, ladies. If I'm not back in my office when you're ready to deliver the books, feel free to just go in and leave them there. The door is unlocked." He said, turning on his heel and motioning for Ronald to follow. "I'll see you later. Good luck."

"Goodbye, Mr. Spears." Madeleine said tersely, before returning to her lecture about the importance of silence in the Library and showing respect to elders, giving poor Yori only a brief chance to squeak a farewell to the two of them, before her ranting resumed and, then, slowly faded into the typical morning noise of the awakening Library as the two males moved farther and farther away.

"Soo... That's it?" Ronald chirped, bouncing after William, as he was having a little trouble keeping up with the taller man's stride whenever he was turned around and waving a farewell to the ladies, even when they were well out of sight. (Not that that was surprising at all; Ronald was shorter, of course, and not very good at walking backwards.)

"For now, but as I said, there's still much to teach." William said, not even sparing him a glance as the blond seemed to almost dance as he turned on his heel to walk properly once more, his cheery mood adding quite a spring to his step. "Transformation, for starters, then creation, and you could use a bit of training in the area of fighting techniques; perhaps we could trade pointers? You're skilled there as it is, but it never hurts to brush up and exchange maneuvers. And I'm sure you'd like to learn how to use that butterfly knife to its full potential..."

William allowed himself to trail off when he noticed that Ronald was no longer paying attention, and was instead staring down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. William quirked an eyebrow and gently nudged him, his voice cool and mildly curious when Ronald looked up.

"Is something on your mind? I know it's quite a bit to learn, but I'm sure you'll be able to do it. You're smart, and I won't be throwing it at you all at once." He said, trying to sound as soothing as William T. Spears can sound while on duty; which, really doesn't sound that much different at all, seeing as how he was rather softspoken whenever he wasn't nipping people back into their place, anyway. Ronald seemed to be able to tell the slight difference, though, and he flashed William a fleeting smile.

"I know you won't, Sir. It's not that at all, really, I was just wondering... how did Alan end up the way he was?" Ronald asked softly, eyes downcast and clouding with pain as he thought of his lost friend. "...What were the Thorns of Death?"

William paused suddenly, and Ronald nearly ran into him, stopping just in the knick of time to avoid it. William, however, either didn't notice or just didn't care, as he was avoiding Ronald's gaze. His own eyes were tight with pain, and Ronald found himself rather taken aback at the sudden change in the older Shinigami.

William sighed to himself, very softly, sounding tired and, possibly, maybe even a bit... defeated? Ronald wasn't sure, but he found it troubling nonetheless, and without thinking, he reached out a hand to lay on William's upper arm, offering what condolence he could.

"That was... my fault, I'm afraid." William said quietly, staring off into the distance and not even bothering to shrug Ronald off, further disturbing the blond. "I was still a bit new to the world of soul creation... to be honest, I s_till_ am. Alan's soul had a minor imperfection, a simple one, really; he was a bit too young-fourteen, if I remember correctly-when he died of cholera, and I'm afraid that his soul hadn't yet reached the target age and wasn't yet strong enough to withstand the stress of creation and the new form of a Shinigami. As a result, when he was created, he had what you might consider... well, a birth defect, I suppose, that manifested itself in the form of the Thorns.

"I'm not sure whether or not it would have actually killed him in the end, but, as you know, it certainly crippled him and affected his daily life. I tried many times to cure it... tonics, various other medicinal practices, forcing modifications on him when he didn't know how to do it himself, as he didn't know how to modify his own form, either... Well, I had his consent, of course, but it was still a very taxing activity, for him especially. It's hard for me to keep the shape of an already formed Shinigami while making slight changes to the soul that makes up the body, as the body, when undergoing outside modification preformed by anyone but the individual being changed, naturally tries to revert back to the form of the iridescent orb, which would have completely wiped all of Alan's memories... and probably set off a homicidal rampage on Eric's part. But, it was even more stressful for him, as he had to remain awake to tell me if he felt any changes, especially if he felt as though he were going to lose his Shinigami form completely, and it was a rather painful procedure that just ended up stressing him out and making his attacks worse. I only did it a handful of times before I gave up, as it was really just too hard to watch, and there weren't any permanent changes at all, not to mention the risk of something going seriously wrong and altering him in a severely negative way; if too many changes were made, he ran the risk of ending up with something that would make Grell's teeth look nothing less than extremely normal. Besides, the sickness was voracious; it would go away for perhaps a week after each session, before coming back with a vengeance. I'd call it a chronic condition, personally, and I'd also call it a massive error on my part." He said, giving Ronald a fleeting glance. Ronald bit his lip and gently squeezed William's arm, trying his best to comfort him without being intimate.

"He didn't blame you, I'm sure. Alan was a really nice guy, and Eric was great, too. He was the one who did the piercings around here, including mine..." Ronald said with a tiny smile at the bittersweet memory. "They were good people..."

William allowed a minuscule smile to cross his own face for the briefest second, but it faded just as quickly as it came. Though he didn't look quite as down anymore, he sure didn't look cheery, either, and Ronald was positive that there was still a bit of guilt written into his features.

"No, Alan was never bitter about it, though I firmly believe that he had every right to be. I even told him that if he were to ever chew me out or resort to violence for it that I wouldn't raise a finger to stop him. He just laughed and said that he'd told Eric to behave himself around me, because he didn't hold it against me, and he didn't want Eric to, either..."

William trailed off wistfully, his eyes distant once again, and Ronald simply frowned and gently squeezed his arm once more.

"You miss them."

"All of them." William confirmed quietly, before, finally, gently pushing Ronald's hand away. "But, they would probably lecture me if they heard me prattling on like a senile old lady. Shall we, Mr. Knox?"

Ronald nodded, and William immediately took up a brisk pace once again, motioning for Ronald to follow. Ronald trailed at his side, watching him carefully for any other signs of pain, and not being sure whether or not he should have been relieved when he didn't see anything. He bit his lip, thinking and trying to find a more lighthearted subject to take William's mind off of such things.

"So... What about Tuft? You created him too, didn't you? I mean, he's got the eyes of a Shinigami and all..." Ronald asked a tad hesitantly, hoping that William didn't have another horror story in store for him.

"Yes, I did." William said, sounding much less downcast about this subject, making Ronald let out a relieved sigh. "He was more of an experiment that turned into what may have been a great discovery. You see, it may sound odd, but when I was out in London, I saw a carrier pigeon that was well under the influence of death from some sort of illness. It wasn't much more than an adolescent bird, and it gave me a rather spur-of-the-moment idea." William continued, readjusting his glasses with two fingers. "You see, even if we don't really bother with animals because their lower level of consciousness means that they don't really make a huge difference in the passage of time, they're still mortals, and they still have souls. Therefore, I had the idea to reap the bird's soul and see if I could make a creation out of it. As cynical as it may sound, I suppose I did it for the fun of it, and I wasn't really expecting anything successful. However, much to my surprise, not only did the bird become a strong, healthy Shinigami when I took out it's Cinematic Record and shaped a new being, but I do sincerely believe that it became much, much smarter. Believe it or not, Tuft not only knows the names and faces of every Shinigami in existence, but he also knows Morse Code that he uses by clicking his beak, and can answer some very complex sentences using it."

There was no mistaking the pride and even the slight touch of fondness in William's voice, and by this point, Ronald was beaming, and he had a new respect for his feathered foe.

"You're quite fond of him, aren't you?" Ronald said a tad mischievously, turning his grin up to William.

"I won't deny that." William answered coolly.

Ronald received a rough cuff upside the head and a short-but-sharp lecture for his next comment, but it was all-too worth it, and he didn't regret a thing.

"Fine, but since I'm still your favorite, the next time I lay you, he's leaving the room."

000

Undertaker gave his beloved tophat a final, swift adjustment, watching as Grell pulled on his coat, marveling at how beautifully Grell's body curved to do such an innocent motion, and wondering how it was even possible to be so gorgeous. He grinned over at his lover, cheeky amusement gleaming his eyes as Grell fussily flicked out his hair for the thousandth time that morning, further adding to his status as a professional temptress.

It really just wasn't fair how he could be such a tease without even trying. Undertaker was, literally, older than dirt, but even _he_ wasn't that good at being seductive.

He seriously doubted anyone could be better than his Grell.

"Are you ready to go, m'lady?" Undertaker purred coolly, bowing slightly and capturing Grell's hand with his own, kissing the back as any gentleman would, and then kissing his way up the length of Grell's arm, smirking when he heard Grell's dainty, flattered giggle from above. "I'm sure the other two are more than prepared by now, and if I have to stay here and gaze at you any longer, we're going to be even more delayed...~"

"Lead the way, dearest~!" Grell crooned back as Undertaker stood and offered his arm to Grell, shooting a fond, ambiguous smile down at him that may or may not have meant that he was teasing.

Grell, however, seemed to have a different idea in mind.

At first, he made a move as though to slide his arm into Undertaker's waiting limb, but then, to Undertaker's immense surprise, Grell's hand connected suddenly and firmly with his rear, and a very un-masculine, startled yelp left his lips. Before he could even comprehend what had just happened, Grell was a madly giggling, red blur fleeing from the room, leaving a dumbstruck, stinging Undertaker behind in his wake.

Undertaker stared stupidly at the bedroom door as it swung closed, nursing a smarting rear and pondering how someone as ladylike and feminine as Grell could hit so damn _hard, _and why he'd even done so in the first place_._ Afterall, Grell didn't usually mind Undertaker's teasing; more often than not, he seemed flattered by it, as it only proved that Undertaker loved his body just as much as he loved the rest of him. Still, even through the draping robes and the undercoat, it had bloody well _stung, _and he wasn't anything less than wide awake now_._ He didn't mind the pain at all, really (as it was obviously one of the many kinks he enjoyed in their relationship) but he felt both very indignant and highly amused.

On one hand, Grell had just dominated him, and that called for some more "punishment", as Undertaker was definitely the one who wore the pants in the relationship... even if Grell _did_ control the zipper. Truth be told, Grell was really the one in control of the whole situation; Undertaker would have never, ever done anything to Grell that Grell didn't like, and at the first little sign of protest, he'd stop immediately (and most likely apologize until he turned blue in the face), and may the Gods help _anyone _who dared hurt Grell-physically or emotionally-as Undertaker wouldn't hesitate to completely obliterate them.

On the other, Grell knew this full well, and he knew that he could push the envelope as much as he liked without being in any sort of real danger at all. The fact that he was acting out only served to prove that he had more than enjoyed the thrills of the night before, though, and that he wanted Undertaker to do it again, which was why he was taunting his lover into another "attack".

A sly, Chesire grin crept across his face as he followed Grell at a much more leisurely pace, exiting the bedroom just in time to see Grell wink at him from a half-open suite door, before continuing his escape with a flick of his hair and a sashay of his hips. He was clearly enjoying the game and, naturally, the promise of the rewards that would be reaped in the near future.

If Undertaker hadn't been crazy before, he certainly was now, as Grell had stolen every last bit of sense he had and replaced it with a strong sense of adventure, passion, and, most of all, the kind of love that's as fiery and foolish as it is bold and sincere and utterly, undeniably sweet all at the same time. The kind of love that the movies envied and the people dream about; the kind of love that could overcome any sort of quarrel and make a relationship last forever.

The kind of love that drives you the very best kind of mad.

And, Undertaker was just fine with that.


	61. Welcome to Hell

Sebastian inconspicuously surveyed the high ceiling above and the large, widely-spaced walls around them, subtly admiring his own handiwork. The entire building, redesigned and rebuilt to resemble the old Phantomhive manor, was constructed entirely of the igneous rocks that formed and reformed daily in the underground pools and vats of lava that were found everywhere in dark, eternally-ongoing caverns of Hell. As far back as Sebastian could remember, the demons of Hell had always built with the volcanic rock, as it was local and, since Hell was an underground map of tunnels formed entirely of the substance, extremely easy to find. Therefore, since building material had always been plentiful and free, the demons, unlike the Shinigami, had had multiple buildings to house their residents.

Ciel had changed all of that, however.

The Shinigami Library was absolutely massive, almost as large as the high, rocky, endless mountains it was perched upon. Truth be told, it's marble walls could have comfortably held a hundred times the residents it had now, and then some. The demons, however, had often preferred to have small houses to themselves, as they had a tendency to be far less social than their Shinigami counterparts. This had displeased the picky little Lord, though, as he didn't like the sight of the many now-empty homes littering the expanse of Hell, and he had forced Sebastian to tear down everything and rebuild it to his own liking. "His own liking" had consisted of the replicated manor on the highest hill in Hell, which was safe from the occasional lava flow, and several massive guesthouses nearby, to hold the demons that would soon repopulate the Realm. The single building that he'd ordered Sebastian to spare was the old meeting house, where Ciel would keep the tradition of holding all the conferences and other such nonsense. Otherwise, Sebastian had ripped down everything, and used the old parts and pieces (and then some) to, literally, rebuild Hell from the ground up. Even for him, it had taken nearly three and a half days, and the little blue-haired hellion had bitched the entire time about how he was bored, or how Sebastian was taking too long, or about how he was hungry but couldn't go into the Mortal Realm to feed because it was frozen, and blah, blah, blah, blah, _blah._

Despite the fact that he was envious and perhaps even a little fond of the kid and his tenacity, if he had been given half the chance, Sebastian would have smacked Ciel so hard that his eyepatch would have flown around the world and smacked him again, from _behind,_ quite a long time ago. However, he was simply forced to stand and observe the bleak scenery around them as Ciel busily scratched away at a piece of parchment with a quill; both of which had been stolen from the Library, as demons weren't normally scholars by habit (unlike those insufferable bookworms) so a pen and paper were a rare sight in Hell. Besides, they hadn't yet had the chance to fetch the furniture from the old manor, (which meant that Ciel was forced to use the rickety old furnishings that the demons before them had kept; Sebastian found it hilarious, as Ciel was currently sitting in a creaky wooden chair at the foot of the stairs and looking none-too-pleased about it) so Ciel had yet to gather any of his old writing utensils, either. They had really had no choice, and though he hated to touch what those insidious reapers had before, Sebastian, who normally couldn't give a rat's ass about what William thought, was actually looking forward to seeing the Shinigami's reaction when he found out about the petty theft. He had a tendency to be set off by the smallest little demonic antics, afterall.

Sebastian was roused from his daydreaming when Ciel finally put down the quill and thrust the piece of parchment at him expectantly, laying his chin in his hand as he continued his previous bout of brooding over his hunger, which, for demons, was an empty, unsettling feeling that positioned itself in the center of the chest. (That same feeling was always present to varying degrees, but it got worse whenever a demon would go without eating for a long time; Ciel hadn't actually eaten a soul since his transformation, so his "hunger" had been steadily growing for the last year.) Sebastian quelled the urge to roll his eyes and took the paper obediently, his eyes rapidly scanning over the neatly written list of names there, instantly memorizing them. The first few were predictable, and one even made his mood a little bit better, until he realized that it would be part of a package deal that would, most likely, drive utterly him mad. But, at least he'd finally have someone he got along with hanging around. One of them was unexpected, two of them made his eyebrow raise the faintest amount from surprise, and the absence of one name shocked him even more.

"My Lord, pardon the question, but aren't you interested in bringing Lady Elizabeth here? She would no doubt be loyal-albeit in the way-and I'm certain that-"

"Those I selected," Ciel interrupted, giving Sebastian an unimpressed, mildly annoyed look that demanded he stop asking questions. "Were either aware of my dealings with the Queen, your true nature, or both. Elizabeth knew of neither, and it's absolutely senseless to drag her into this whole mess now." He said, his eyes flicking to one of the large windows in the wall, their gaze a tad distant, his voice subdued. "She will find another, less dangerous man, I'm sure."

Sebastian would have had a lot more sympathy for him if he had used the phrase "self-appeasing brat" instead of "man". Instead, he found himself as apathetic and disgruntled as always, and simply shrugged and rolled the parchment up, tucking it away into his sleeve, just because he'd be getting an earful if Ciel didn't see him do it.

"These requests are simple, My Lord, I'll have the task accomplished post-haste. All we need now are-"

Sebastian cut himself off midsentence, turning to face the left wall across from them as a blue portal opened, and a mere second later, a worn old tophat bounced through, having obviously been tossed as a peaceful forewarning. There was a small pause, and then, the owner of said tophat stepped into the room, the usual smile on his face as he moved to reclaim the beloved article of clothing while his three companions entered after him. Grell came first, flouncy and flirty as usual, and then the blond-haired little menace named Ronald, whose nervousness was outweighed by overwhelming curiosity, judging by the way he was looking around with wide, bright eyes. Last but not least came the ever-disgruntled William, who looked absolutely disgusted as soon as he set one perfectly polished shoe on the slate brick floor.

This was going to be fun.

"Ah, speak of the Devil, and he shall arrive." Ciel said calmly, an amused smile dancing onto his face as he studied the four of them with an eye that was half-open and rather lazy. "Welcome to Hell."

"If I speak of the Devil, I'll have nothing kind to say." William shot back, scowling at the young demon as though he were something unpleasant on the heel of his shoe. "Don't expect otherwise."

"Besides, aren't _we _the ones coming to _you,_ Ciel?" Undertaker said with a teasing note in his voice as he fixed his hat back upon his head. "By all rights, you _are _the Devil now."

"True, true." The boy answered with a smirk and a pleased, arrogant chuckle. "Well, let's not waste time. Sebastian has a list of the first round of souls, and he's going to pick them up quickly and without interference or distraction, aren't you, Sebastian?"

William scowled over at the raven-haired demon, eyes narrowing as if to say "Steal a single soul while you're there, you bastard, and I'll cut off your testicles and feed them to my pigeon." Sebastian have him an irritated look in return, but simply bowed to Ciel, giving the Shinigami no other acknowledgement.

"Yes, my Lord." He said, raising his eyes to momentarily meet William's for emphasis, as he was pretty sure he'd flip his lid if he had a nosy Shinigami following him to the Mortal Realm. "Not a single soul shall be tainted as I retrieve those of whom you've requested."

"Excellent. Now, if you'll just remove the Bookmark from the Neverending Book, then-"

"How did you know about that?" William snapped, his entire body seeming to bristle as he shot a withering glare at Ciel. Ciel calmly quirked an eyebrow in response, making William scowl all the harder, as he simply detested being talked down to, and by a little _kid, _of all things.

"Guilty." Undertaker said, raising one hand into the air. William looked at him sharply, demanding explanation, and Undertaker simply shrugged. "What? When you were still sick, they tried to travel to the Mortal Realm to gather their recruits, and found out that they couldn't enter. So, they came to me, and, for a price, I told them. I _am _the neutral party here, and it's not like I was even letting them hold the Book, much less toss it around or use it as a football. Besides, the way you guard it, anyone would swear that it was your child." Undertaker rolled his eyes when William's narrowed faintly. "And no, they don't know where you keep it. They just know that there's a Book, a Bookmark, and a Pen, and they knew of two of the three in the first place, anyway."

William clenched his jaw, not seeming the slightest bit happy about it, but knowing that there was nothing he could do now, anyway. Still, he wouldn't trust the demons with a pet rock, much less the knowledge of the existence of the Neverending Book, so needless to say, he was very unnerved by the whole situation, and would probably be adding about seven or eight more locks onto the drawer when he got home.

"Let me see the list." William said tersely, holding his hand out to Sebastian. Sebastian scowled at his upturned palm like he wanted to break it, then, reluctantly, reached into his sleeve and thrust the list at William. William took it none-too-gently, not even bothering to give Sebastian a dirty look before he quickly unrolled the list, his eyes scanning over the names scrawled down, making a mental note of each one. He wordlessly rolled the list back up and tossed it at Sebastian, who caught it with a simple flick of his wrist, a very dark scowl painting onto his face. William ignored him, materializing a thick, tab-ridden book and cracking it open, his lips moving the slightest amount as as he read over the pages there. After a long moment of careful consideration, he grudgingly closed the book and allowed it to disappear, his voice clipped and full of suppressed hatred when he spoke again.

"Those souls have no particular influence on the passage of time that would prohibit them from being _used _in such a way." He gritted to Ciel, his very tone an expletive. "You may collect them without my interference, so long as no other souls are touched without my review." He said, giving Sebastian a very distrustful look. Ciel simply smirked to himself as the two tried to kill each other with mere glares alone, his voice calm and collected.

"That won't be a problem, reaper. Now, please remove the Bookmark so that you may get out of here as soon as possible."

"Quite." William said, agreeing with the demon for what he hoped would be the first and last time in his life. He looked to over to Undertaker, who reached into one overlarge sleeve and pulled out the Book. He opened the Book to the saved page-specifically, the very last one, of course-and looked to William for the final confirmation. William nodded once, and Undertaker whisked out the Bookmark with a flick of his wrist, an amused smirk scrawling onto his face as he watched the pages instantly fly into action, flipping and turning and writing themselves in a constant flurry as they went.

"All clear, Ciel." He said, having to raise his voice slightly over the sudden rustle of pages. "The Mortal Realm is open now."

"Sebastian," Ciel said simply, ruby gaze pinned on his butler. Sebastian bowed deeply, hand to his chest as usual.

"Yes, my Lord." He said, standing and heading for the wall. "I'll return momentarily."

The five of them watched as Sebastian left, their individual faces ranging from bored to amused to absolutely furious about the entire thing. Undertaker turned his attention away from the wall where Sebastian had departed after a second, preoccupying himself with twirling the Death Bookmark between his fingers. Meanwhile, Grell gently elbowed Ronald, who had been in the middle of studying a small, decorative carving in the wall. Ronald glanced up at his idolized friend, who subtly motioned toward William, who was standing off to the side with a heavy scowl on his face; he was clearly sulking, as losing a soul-even for a good reason-pissed him off like nothing else could. He took his job very seriously, and it was really no surprise that he currently looked like he wanted to tear his hair out or punch the nearest innocent bystander in the throat; to William, losing one soul to a demon wasn't a small problem, it was a direct and absolutely volatile insult, even worse than if the same demon had streaked buck-naked through his Library at high noon and then poured ink all over his reports. Therefore, losing 69 souls in one go was an absolute catastrophe, and he was going to fight it tooth and nail, even if it had to be done one way or another.

Ronald honestly felt sorry for William, but he really did just look so incredibly endearing when he was upset, and Ronald couldn't help but smile. He'd have to "work his stress away" later.

Grell, however, didn't bother with hiding his amusement. The look he received from William when he broke out into a hysterical fit of giggles plainly said "When we get back to the Library, I'm giving you a stack of papers. And I'm not just going to let you have them; oh no, I'm going to _beat _you with them."

Ciel, however, broke off William's glaring, however unintentionally, when he spoke again, his voice easily carrying throughout the room when Undertaker closed the book in order to silence the rustling pages. (Though, of course, they kept moving, just much less noticeably.)

"I've been meaning to ask you, Undertaker," Ciel said, his head propped up on one hand as he casually slouched to the side on his small wooden excuse for a throne. "Is this also a side affect of becoming a Wire?"

He raised one small, pale hand in explanation as Undertaker looked up. There, at the tips of each of his fingers, his jet-black nails had grown to a size that was, by proportion, nearly as large as Undertaker's. He waved his fingers lightly, studying his own nails with a sort of displeased curiosity, then brought one talon to his lips and gently nibbled. Surprisingly, his fangs made an audible scraping noise against them, but as far as they could tell, caused no damage. Ciel made a face at that, looking rather disgusted.

"I can't trim them for the life of me." He said, removing his finger and tapping it against the arm of the chair. "And they've been getting in the way."

"Yessir, I'm afraid so. It comes with the territory of being a Wire." Undertaker answered, a content smirk on his face. "Don't worry. They don't keep growing, and they're more or less unbreakable, so you don't have to worry about chipping a nail, _Princess,"_

Undertaker received a very foul scowl from Ciel, who bared his fangs and growled softly at him. Undertaker merely chuckled in response, gently grabbing Grell's elbow to hold him back when the redhead made a rather aggressive step toward the young demon, a dangerous scowl on his face. Ronald and William were both watching Ciel closely; the former went back to studying the multitude of carvings and various other oddities that he'd found in the wall after a second, appearing appeased that Undertaker didn't take Ciel seriously, while the latter continued to stare Ciel down even when the youth settled back into his chair with a disgruntled huff.

"What's the point in it?" Ciel asked sourly, staring down at the talons with obvious disdain. "It's annoying..."

"I would think you realize that they're for the purpose of turning others into Wires, considering that's exactly what happened to you." Undertaker said cheekily as he chuckled into one overlarge sleeve, finally releasing Grell, who huffed and flipped his hair before stalking back off to Ronald. "Are you really that unobservant?"

"I meant, 'what's the point in constantly having them in the way', you dolt." Ciel snapped back crabbily, "Why can't they just be retractable, at the very least?"

"Dunno." Undertaker said cheerily, shrugging so that the overlarge sleeves draped over his arms, hiding the Book and Bookmark still clutched in his hand, a carefree smile on his scarred face. "I've wondered that a time or two myself, but, it doesn't bother me in the slightest anymore. I've always lived with them, afterall; I suppose you'll just have to get used to them. Not much else you can do."

Ciel made no response, choosing instead to pout down at his nails as he drummed them against the arm of the chair. William snorted softly and muttered something to himself, finally looking away from the tiny demon. Grell had joined Ronald and his survey of the arts Sebastian had either crafted or found, and they were quietly discussing some of the more grotesque carvings, most of which involved extra limbs, blood, depictions of half-man, half-animal beings, and quite a bit of fascinated disgust from Ronald and half-interested amusement from Grell. Meanwhile, Undertaker hummed a soft, eerie little tune to himself; it sounded not unlike a hymn that would have been played at a funeral, or the background music for a horror movie. Several long moments passed with the five of them like that, before Ciel finally spoke up again.

"Why are yours black, anyway?" Ciel said with a yawn. "Mine are naturally, of course, but don't tell me that you paint yours?"

"Shinigami have black nails as well." William said bluntly, not giving Undertaker a chance to answer. "Don't think yourself so special. It's a very common trait among immortals; if I recall correctly, angels are really the only ones exempt from it. Unless, of course, you dip into the world of half-breeds. Then things get strange..."

"It's true!" Ronald confirmed from across the room, turning from where he and Grell had been studying a carving of a Minotaur devouring some hapless townfolk. He whisked his glove off for emphasis, his own neatly trimmed nails just as black as Undertaker's. "Not a drop of paint on me, demon."

"Mmmm~, I prefer mine _red." _Grell purred, a happy, sharp-toothed grin on his face. "It's so much more elegant..."

Ciel glanced over at William, who had been giving the two an exasperated look that said "Really? Is that at all necessary?" as Ronald tugged his glove back on and Grell continued to prattle on about his favorite color, which made Undertaker snicker in amusement. William instantly bristled and sneered at the demon, his mood getting worse with every passing second; right then, he would have killed for a shot of brandy. Or even just a strong cup of coffee.

"I don't have to prove anything to you, _demon."_

"Then I'm just going to assume that yours are periwinkle blue."

"I'm just going to smack the skin straight off of your face. You're still a child, and I can assure you that I'm _definitely _your elder. Show some respect."

"I've spoken with you for perhaps a cumulative hour over the course of my lifetime. You're still very much a stranger to me, Mr. Spears, and my butler says that I shouldn't listen to strangers."

Ciel gave him what was perhaps the cockiest smirk yet, and William's glare could have killed. He was just about to make a very nasty retort when the wall behind and just to the left of him-where Ronald and Grell were now standing, having maneuvered their way around the entire room like a couple of art critics-opened up into a portal, and several figures were suddenly tossed inside almost carelessly. There was the sudden sound of startled shouts and indignant cries as a few more figures were haphazardly tossed inside, colliding with the first group, one of them nearly hitting Grell. Grell jumped back with an annoyed yelp, and, instead, the figure rammed straight into Ronald.

Or, rather, smacked into his small frame on purpose, knocking him slightly off balance, before throwing a punch so fast and so very unexpected that Ronald's glasses were whipped from his face as he just barely managed to dodge the sudden attack. Knowing what was coming, he ducked the second, lightning fast punch, and backflipped away when the figure nearly landed a roundhouse kick that might very well have taken his head off.

"Woah, woah, _woah!" _Ronald yelped as he landed on his feet, stepping aside just in time to avoid another punch. "What the _hell!"_

Just as the figure aimed another brutal swipe at his face, a black streak hit it from the side, effectively knocking it away from Ronald. The attacker, however, appeared to have seen this coming; Ronald watched as William expertly ducked and dodged around the various, rapid attacks that were being administered by...

...A girl, who was nearly six inches shorter than William, and who just happened to be wearing the shortest dress Ronald had ever seen outside of the office?

"Not bad," William said coolly as he brought his hands together on the upper and lower halves of the girl's leg, blocking a kick that was aimed for his face. "But, you're a tad slow on the recoil, and you're leaving too many openings in your stance."

The girl's eyes widened as William moved with sudden, lethal grace. He released her leg and, moving almost like a snake, took advantage of a small opening and struck her thrice about the torso, targeting her nerve points. She wobbled unsteadily for a split second, then fell like a rock, and William was on top of her instantly, rolling her over and pinning both of her arms behind her with a single, strong hand. She looked too utterly stunned to fight back just then, and immediately went still, her large, golden eyes wide with shock. She blinked slowly and stared at Ronald, who was staring at William and, as a result of William's eerily graceful retaliation, thinking some things that he shouldn't have been thinking on duty.

The squabble had lasted no longer than ten seconds, and the rest of the "cargo" had all been watching with fearful rapture, all of them wondering what the hell was going on and just where in the hell they were. One who looked particularly shellshocked was an Asian man, as his deep brown eyes were wide and utterly disbelieving as he stared at the sight of William holding the girl down with such ease. He blinked, then looked sharply over to Ciel, who simply smiled coolly back at him, which somehow made him look even more baffled than before.

_"...Earl?"_ The man questioned cautiously, his voice-an interesting mix of both a Chinese and an English accent-was guarded and seemingly reluctant to believe what he was seeing.

"The same." Ciel answered calmly, fingers steepled together at his chest as he regarded the robe-clad man, whose hands were hidden as he clasped them under his overlong sleeves. "It's been awhile, Lau."

Lau was just opening his mouth to respond when there was a massive, combined ruckus from the remaining bundle of mortals.

_"CIIIIIIIEEEEEEL!"_

William winced a bit as his sensitive ears were suddenly assaulted by the clamor (though, he swore that he caught a much quieter "Says Webster" at the tail-end of the cry) and he scowled as a gang of six mortals suddenly rushed to the demon boy. Three (well, technically, four, as William was still pinning one of them, and she was beginning to wiggle with discomfort) held back, however; the Chinese man called Lau, a much older, ancient looking man with a monocle, and a brown-haired, brown-eyed, frightened looking youth who simply gawked at them with pure fear and a glint of... _inspiration?_

Ciel, though he was currently being rushed by what could have easily been considered a small mob, simply sat calmly, waiting until they were nearly upon him. When the group was within four feet of him, his uncovered, cerulean eye suddenly flashed violent, ruby red. The pupil contracted back into a slit, small and sharp, yet able to pierce into each of their souls as he simply sat and stared at them.

It was no surprise that the group came to an instant, screeching halt before the young demon, each and every one of them falling so deathly silent that they might as well have lost their voices entirely. Every single face was pale, drawn, focused as they stared at him, sincerely wondering if it was the end of the world. Behind them, three of the four that they had left behind were just as bad, if not worse; Lau had taken several steps back, his eyes wide and flashing with terror. The brown-haired youth looked like he was about to faint, and his eyes rolled back as he teetered unsteadily, looking like he'd suddenly been stricken with a horrid disease. The girl beneath William was squirming almost frantically now, and it was in more of a desperate than defensive way, as if she was now choosing flight over fight. Still, William was taking no chances, and he simply readjusted his grip on her as he watched Ciel's next move. Only the old man did nothing, as he didn't do much more than peer nonchalantly at Ciel through his monocle, seeming perfectly at ease.

Perhaps he was senile.

Ciel reached up and tugged at the string of his eyepatch, letting it fall down softly into his lap, his eye still closed. Slowly, a moment after the leather patch touched his thighs, the young demon let his eye slide open. There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath from the group in front of him as his contract blazed, and one, a young boy with a large hat hanging from the nape of his neck, whimpered softly and took a small step back, hiding behind an older man who was nibbling nervously at the end of a cigarette. The boy looked only slightly relieved when a red-haired girl joined him a second later, but both of them stared at Ciel with awe and fear. A dark-skinned man, taller than anyone else there, moved in front of an equally tanned youth protectively, his eyes mistrustful, even hinting at betrayal. Another white-haired, scaled youth with snakes twined around various parts of his body shifted worriedly, the snakes hissing defensively as he scooted in next to the redheaded girl. The group had coiled themselves into a tight bunch like a herd of frightened sheep, and Ciel looked highly amused by it all as Sebastian quietly strode past them to stand just behind Ciel.

"Welcome to Hell." Ciel said softly, his voice so feathery that it was almost missed. "I've been waiting for you."

"Ciel, you're...?" The dark-skinned boy spoke up suddenly, voice frantic and almost pleading. "I thought you were... but..."

Ciel chuckled softly to himself, and the group edged back a bit more when he suddenly stood up and stepped down from his throne, taking a few steps toward them.

"Well, in a way, one _does _die when they become a demon." Ciel said casually, seeming to ignore the fact that the group was still backing up. "So I was only telling a little white lie."

"Heeheehee, it's true!" A manically amused voice giggled from behind them, and the entire party spun around as one to see Undertaker towering over them, his usual, eerie grin smudged all over his face, his eyes glittering with insanity.

Grell, who had been helping Undertaker get the Bookmark back into the Book in a discreet corner after Sebastian had finally made his quiet entrance (it had taken them several attempts and a few minutes of quiet, frustrated swearing to get the Bookmark back in-between the frantically fluttering pages) had noticed the change in the mortician as soon as the mortals had entered the room. During his time at the Library, he had reverted back to a much more rational, sane state of mind; he still loved to laugh and joke about, of course, but the usual creaky laughter and highly morbid, disturbing sense of humor had more or less gone on vacation. As soon as the first human was tossed in, however, he'd perked up like a hunting hound who had just seen its master take a rifle from its mount on the wall; his eyes had locked onto them, and his best _I'm-insane-and-you-should-lock-the-doors-and-hide-your-children_ grin had scrawled itself across his face as he'd left his place by Grell's side and silently glided over to them, moving like a ghost. Grell had felt himself smiling at that; he'd been wondering about the change in his lover's usual, manic behavior, and he now understood that Undertaker got his jollies strictly by way of making mortals piss themselves with terror. Apparently, he didn't really bother with it when in the company of his fellow undead; most likely because they saw worse things on a daily basis, and no one but a rookie would have been even the slightest bit disturbed by him, making all efforts useless.

Mortals, however, were an entirely different story.

The funny thing about a Shinigami's eyes is that, much like a demon's, they can and will glow. However, unlike a demon's, which can glow at will, a Shinigami's do not technically _glow,_ so much as reflect light like a cat or an owl's would, as they too have a secondary lense in their eyes. This meant that Shinigami were light-sensitive, and could see better in the dark than they could in the day, as they were meant to be primarily nocturnal creatures. Thus, the sunlight of even a moderately sunny day could be very painful for a Shinigami, but because of their tiny population, they were forced to work constantly, both day and night, if they wanted to keep the Mortal Realm in check. That was where the glasses came in; William had not made them regulation because he had a fetish for glasses or an obsession with uniformity. He had made them regulation, eye troubles or no, for the safety and comfort of his officers. They were specially made to cut down on the bright glare of the sun-or, sometimes, even the moon-without being too dark, which could impede upon the vision of the Shinigami, and he'd yet to have any complaint about them from anyone who had ever experienced the utter agony of being caught out on a bright day without a pair of spectacles. For some, like Grell and William himself, they also acted as visionary aids. But for most, they were optional after-hours, though everyone chose to wear them if they were currently working nightshift and chose to go out during the day in their offtime. Glasses were essential for any Shinigami, and that's why trainees were considered full-fledged members of the Library once they received their own pair.

Undertaker, however, was retired, and thus, regulations didn't apply to him (though, he'd kept his glasses, both for sentimental reasons, and because of his "just in case" mentallity). This combined with the fact that he spent most of the day locked up in a dimly lit shop (that he could see perfectly in, even if most mortals ended up stubbing a toe on something in the dark when they entered) meant that he very rarely wore his glasses and, predictably, wasn't wearing them now. Therefore, when he crept up on the little group, he angled his head fractionally, but in such a way (which he had learned from years of getting bored and practicing on slow days in the morgue) that his unprotected eyes caught the dim light of the outside that came in through the large windows and reflected it back, making them glow a bright, eerie shade of yellow. The Shinigami found nothing weird about it at all, and instead, found it humorous; even William looked mildly amused at his antics. But, being total strangers to so much as the _notion _that a human-like being could have glowing eyes, the mortals damn near had simultaneous heart attacks when he suddenly leaned toward them all, looking like the Devil incarnate.

"We're all a _liiii~ttle _bit dead here, you see~!" He tittered, one hand slowly sliding out of an overlarge sleeve to allow one talon to poke the cigarette gnawing man in the cheek, making him blanch the color of an eggshell. "But, even when we were riiii~ght under your nose, you never would have guessed, would you~? Eeheehee..."

"Even when you were staring _Death _in the face!" Grell giggled from the side of the terrified mob, causing them all to whip around and look at him.

His hair was chocolate brown once more, and he was holding it back with one hand, but despite the fact that he was still garbed in red from head to foot and hadn't bothered to change his teeth, four of the five servants of the House of Phantomhive recognized him instantly (though one kept silent, merely watching from behind his monocle), and three jaws dropped.

_"...Mr. Grell?" _Squeaked the hat-wearing boy after a moment, sounding terrified and utterly confused. "You... But... How did you...? Sebastian didn't bring you here!"

"Nope." Grell said, his razor teeth bared in a wicked smile as he let his hair fall, the crimson flowing back into it like rivulets of blood. "I am no lousy butler! I am Grell Sutcliff, certified Shinigami and, formerly... _Jack the Ripper!"_

The last part was an icy hiss accompanied by a small, intimidating step forward, and suddenly, the crowd scattered with shrieks of pure horror, having had too much overwhelming surprises thrown at them at once. Undertaker immediately doubled over with shrieks of laughter, and Grell was laughing almost as hard, his entire body shaking with mirth as he stumbled to his lover and clung to him for support. From the far wall, just behind William-who was still pinning down the now-horrified looking girl-Ronald had his hand braced against the brick, his forehead against the wall as he laughed until he was breathless, subduing him to wheezes and snickers. Even William had a hand to his mouth, unable to hold back the quiet, amused chuckles that gently shook his shoulders. He really just couldn't help it; Shinigami in general enjoyed taunting humans, but Undertaker, having spent so much time around them, knew how to take it to a whole new level.

Ciel looked highly unimpressed with this new development, and there was a scowl on his face as he glanced at Sebastian, giving the butler a silent order through the brief look. Sebastian simply nodded, and within seconds, he was rounding up the panicked mob and herding them back into a tightly packed group, making sure to lead them to a place that was close to Ciel but distanced from the red-and-black bundle that had collapsed into a cackling, tearful heap on the floor. Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose, highly irritated as Sebastian strode over to the three who had yet to join them.

"Please come closer," He said cordially to them, offering a small bow. "I swear on my honor as a butler that no harm will come to you. We are merely asking your assistance, as we've found ourselves in a bit of a pinch. Don't mind the others; they're barbaric enough to see teasing guests as an acceptable practice." He said, shooting a wicked look at William at the last statement, earning a pissed scowl from the Shinigami, who'd ceased his chuckles as soon as Sebastian had begun to speak. His attention was dragged away again, however, when the girl beneath him began to struggle almost violently, as if spurred on by the demon's words.

"Certainly." Said the elderly gentleman with a polite bow, before he strode toward the huddled mass of terrified mortals with an easy, relaxed gait. The brunette simply gave Sebastian a fearful look, his eyes widening with terror, and literally ran to the others when Sebastian gave him a small, enigmatic smile.

Lau remained behind, eyes still open and fixated mistrustfully on the demon, clearly expecting some sort of trick. His eyes warily flicked over to the girl, then back to Sebastian, his voice clipped and clearly nervous when he spoke.

"Let her go." He said simply, shifting his weight uneasily before he added "...Please."

"Yes, please do, Mr. Spears." Ciel said lightly in the direction of the Head Shinigami. "We're all friends here, there's really no need to do that."

"The day I call you a 'friend' is the day _after _the day I die." William spat, clearly offended by the statement, even if he did give the girl a sharp, no nonsense look that plainly said "Behave yourself, or I'm going to do it again." before, slowly and carefully, letting her go and rising to his feet.

Within seconds, she'd dashed across the space between herself and Lau and was clinging to his arm, giving William the dirtiest look he'd ever received from any human. _Ever._ William merely quirked an eyebrow, mildly impressed at the feat as well as disgruntled by it, and simply turned his eyes to Lau, curious as to his reaction.

Lau reached up and pet her head once, and her grip on him tightened as Lau finally joined the others, his gait swift yet guarded, his eyes still open and searching for the very first signs of an attack. It was then that William realized that the girl's grip on him was not out of fear that was causing her to seek protection; it was protective, yes, but protective of _him, _not her own personal well-being. Her eyes darted between every being there indiscriminately, daring even one of them to lay a hand on the man who strode forward and settled himself at the side of the group, seeming fractionally more at ease now that he had the girl at his side.

Interesting.

The rest of the mob seemed to have calmed down slightly as well once the elderly man was amongst them, as he was looking utterly nonchalant and completely at ease, as though being unceremoniously hurled into Hell was an uncommon but equally undisturbing occurrence that one should easily take in stride. The man with the snakes, the man with the cigarette, the boy with the hat, and the redheaded female all seemed to calm down the most, and the rest of them fed off of that aura. Though still obviously uneasy, they were no longer teetering on the edge of completely losing their minds, and Ciel looked very much relieved at this, though he still shot a scowl down at Grell and Undertaker, who were hugging each other and still giggling like schoolgirls at this point. Behind William, Ronald had gone quiet, at least, but he didn't appear to have the ability to wipe the smile off of his face as he took his place by his superior's side.

"Now that that's settled," Ciel's quiet voice penetrated the silence that had otherwise been interrupted only by Grell and Undertaker's snickering. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, and explain why you're all here. For starters, let's begin with the burning of my old estate, and the month afterward, when I went missing..."

The entire group listened in silence as Ciel retold his tale, beginning-to-present, and elaborated on everything that had landed the mortals in the realm. He covered the burning of his manor and the death of his parents, how he'd met Sebastian, the contract, Grell's actions as a butler and why Madam Red was now dead (this earned several stares in Grell's direction, who, by that point, had ceased his giggles and was now sitting next to his beloved, listening to the tale with mild interest. He had simply grinned wickedly back at the group and batted his eyes, making the entire gathering shift back a few inches) the curry contest and how the two dark-skinned males-apparently Indians-had come to join them, the Circus and Sebastian's murder*, which had followed soon after, to the treachery of the Queen through Lau and the ensuing incidents with the Angel, to Claude and the House of Trancy, to his transformation and the recent war and, finally, to the reason they were there; to serve as recruits, as Ciel had known them in his past life and trusted them enough to keep them as his council. William also learned and made a mental note of all the names of everyone there; the man with the cigarette was called Bard, the one with the hat, Finnian, affectionately dubbed "Finny" by those who knew him. The redhead was Maylene, and the man with the snakes was dubbed Snake _(How original. _William had thought to himself.) while the Indian boy was, apparently, a prince from Bengal named Soma, and the taller Indian man-his servant, apparently-was Agni. The woman so possessive of Lau was named Ran Mao _("Blue Cat**"? _William had thought. _I'll admit, it fits.) _and the elderly man who'd brought peace to the others through his own apathy was named Tanaka. The brown-haired youth who'd been so terrified of Sebastian from the start was named Arthur "Wordsmith***", an affectionate term coined by the young demon himself, who was, apparently, a fan of the man's literary work. The group sometimes had looks ranging the spectrum from amused to perturbed to horrified and sometimes even hurt. A few times, Ciel was questioned about the way he'd used those around them, to which he simply shrugged and responded "I wouldn't consider what I did mistreatment of any of you. Did you not live good lives either in my company or under my rule? Besides, I was merely doing what I had to do, and now that that is accomplished, I see no reason to 'use' you any more." It had settled the disturbances amongst the group, but William knew the demon was lying through his teeth.

They always did.

To deceive prey with sweet words and drag them into the darkness... that was a demon's signature ability, and even at such a young age-hell, even when he had still been _mortal-_ Ciel had already mastered it. He'd used it often enough in his previous life that he needed almost no practice now.

The overachieving little bastard.

Still, William had no pity for anyone stupid enough to fall for something as silly as a demon's silver tongue, and he said nothing to contradict Ciel. He simply watched from the sidelines, as one would watch as a row of dominoes falls in rapid succession, straight into a demon's hands.

"...And, that is why you are here. Pardon the intrusive way we brought you to this place, but, as you now know, we didn't really have a choice. There was simply no time to explain while you were in that Realm." Ciel concluded after nearly an hour of speaking, during which the group-as well as Ronald, Grell, and Undertaker (who had already been sitting, anyway)-had all taken seats on the floor, leaving only Sebastian, Tanaka, and William to remain standing. Ciel was lounging on the chair once more, a small, content smirk on his face as he studied the gaggle of his old companions. "You were all selected because you had knowledge of my dealings with the Underground and Black Markets of society, or you knew of Sebastian's true nature as a demon."

Lau had gradually calmed as the situation was explained, having fallen to the demon's sly tongue as well, and, as a result, his eyes had closed once more, and he was gently petting the top of Ran Mao's head as she sprawled in his lap in a seemingly lazy, yet still watchful manner. However, as Ciel concluded his story, Lau had a question that was legitimate, and concerned all of them.

"That's quite a fascinating story, Earl, and it answers many questions I'd had about you in your 'former' life, but the big thing that we're all wondering is... Why should we accept this proposal of becoming demons?" He inquired, tilting his head as a slight frown crossed his face. "I just don't see what's in it for _me._ Having your soul sucked out doesn't sound very pleasant..."

"Oh, don't be such a _pessimist,_ Lau." Ciel said with a cold and yet oddly alluring smile. "Stop and think; you won't be confined here to Hell at all once the Mortal Realm can be opened again. You'll be free to travel the world at your leisure and, of course, you can expand your businesses beyond what you've ever dreamed before. You have the potential to become the world's greatest trader of legal, or, if you wish, illegal goods. Or, you could just drop it all and take up a new path in life; when you're immortal, the possibilities are simply endless, and as long as your loyalty is to me first, I really don't care _what _you do."

Lau had cracked one eye open, and was studying the boy carefully. William knew, could see, that there was a glint of greed in his eye, and that the human was sorely tempted to take up the offer now that he realized the potential it held. Ran Mao was watching him as well, appearing to be egging him on with nothing but the encouraging look on her face. Before he could answer, however, Ciel turned his sly bribery onto the next willing, ignorant victim.

"And you as well, Arthur." Ciel said, both eyes focusing on the man with a calm, _What-Could-Happen_ look. "I know you enjoy creating your work almost as much as I enjoy reading it. However, you'll now have the ability to travel both this realm and your old one for inspiration, learn new languages to give your works to a different audience, see the passing of time and use it as literary fuel... all while taking as much time as you like to do so, because you'll now have unlimited time and unlimited opportunities to bring enlightening art to a monotone world." Ciel coaxed, watching as the brown eyes before him instantly lit up as the man's constant, creative energy sprang into overdrive.

"Yes... That's true..." He mused aloud, his gaze focusing down at his lap as he projected his thoughts outward. "I've always wanted to travel, but I had limited resources as far as time and money went... And I could go on writing forever... The possibilities..."

Ciel left him to his contemplation, now turning his attention on those who he'd been closest to in his previous life. The two Indians fell to his wicked lips first, completely unaware and completely helpless to his subtle, unseen attack.

"Soma, how about it? You'd get to spend as much time around me as you'd like, all while being able to travel back to India to visit your palace whenever you please. You can learn to be a man by helping me manage the large group that we'll soon have-I was thinking of putting you and Agni in charge of the apartments-and you won't be restricted by something as silly as a lifespan anymore. And you, Agni," Ciel said, flicking his eyes away from the bright look on Soma's face to the turban-clad man, whose eyes widened slightly with both surprise and eagerness. "You'll be able to perfect your curry-making skills, because you'll have all the time in the world to gather new ingredients and experiment with them. Also, you will," He said, eyes narrowing the faintest amount as an enticing smile curved his lips. "Be able to spend _eternity _with your God."

Agni was instantly rendered speechless by this, and he could only stare at the aforementioned "God" in wonder as Soma grabbed his arm and began to jabber on excitedly. With that, Ciel promptly turned to (or _on,_ in William's opinion) his servants, regarding them with a voice as sweet as honey.

"And you five, along with Sebastian, were the ones who served me without question or complaint for years, and this will be your reward. Being demons means that things such as chores will get done much, much faster, and the manor won't need nearly as much attention. Therefore, you'll have just as much free time as the others, and I encourage you to take advantage of it and do what makes you happy, as the world was so _unkind _to you beforehand, and you deserve the experience of what the Good Life can be like. Besides, as demons... you'll never have to worry about being homeless again, because you'll always have a place here, with me."

The four younger servants stared at him, utterly dumbstruck and left speechless as their master simply continued to smile calmly at them. Tanaka, however, was the first to break the silence, and his voice was calm and matter-of-fact when he spoke.

"It is the duty of a Phantomhive servant to serve his master continuously and without question for as long as he is able." Tanaka said in his age-worn yet strong voice. "That rule is not void because the mortality of the servant is suddenly invalid. Master Ciel, I would be honored to serve you once more."

Ciel looked pleased when Tanaka bowed, then calmly strode forward to take his place behind Ciel's "throne", standing next to Sebastian. He looked over at the older demon with a small smile, then unclipped the silver pin at his breast and calmly fixed it to Sebastian's jacket, where it had been ever since the demon had first appeared at the manor.

"You'll be needing this." Tanaka rasped, before turning and quietly standing at attention once more. For the first time in a very long time, a small, genuine smile crossed Sebastian's face; even if he was enslaved for eternity, at least he'd now have some of his old authority back. Sure, he was ruling over a small pack of goons and/or complete idiots, but it was better than nothing, and now, at least, Ciel would have more people to pick on than just himself, which would give him a bit of relief.

The other four servants, seeing Tanaka's unabashed loyalty at its best, simply looked at each other and then, silently, got to their feet and bowed to Ciel, before moving to take their own places beside Tanaka and Sebastian. No one made a sound besides Snake's snakes, who had let out quiet, pleased hisses when they realized that their charmer was absolutely elated, even if he couldn't show it with much more than a small, shy smile at his own feet.

William forced himself not to roll his eyes and, instead, opted for a small word of advice.

"Are you quite sure that he's not too old?" William asked dryly from his position across the room, sounding as distanced and disinterested as usual as he glanced at Tanaka for emphasis. "And are you positive that everyone here will be loyal to you?" He said, shooting a glance at Lau and Ran Mao. "As you'd know firsthand, demons, unlike Shinigami, retain memories from their past lives. Since our memories are predominantly cleared, we bond at the moment of our creation, so our prime concern is the strength and health of the soul, not of the very specifics of their past, as the loyalty of newborns is more or less unquestionable. As demons, however, you should be worrying about social bonds, and whether or not your minions are going to do as you say because of what occurred in their past lives. However," He said, glancing at Tanaka again. "I wouldn't advise turning anyone who's already weak of body, either. You never know what consequences may follow."

"Tanaka can take care of himself, Spears." Ciel said, waving a hand dismissively, unabashedly convinced of his own words. "Trust me on that. Besides, if it were ever a problem, he can always change his body to be a bit younger. That's something that comes much easier to demons than to Shinigami, afterall, because it's the only way we can heal and we depend on it, whereas your changing ability is more for fun or the occasional disguise. So don't get your tie in a knot; I'm far from stupid about the matter. Besides, why are you suddenly being so helpful, hm?"

The look William gave him was two parts acid and three parts murder.

"Make no mistake, _brat, _I'm helping myself, not you. It seems that every time you damn demons throw a hissy-fit within your hierarchy, _I_ end up paying for it. Therefore, for the sake of my Library, my species, and my _sanity,_ I sincerely hope that you have the sense to recruit those who you know will be obedient. Seeing as how you stepped on so many toes in your previous life, I'm even going to go out on a limb and wish you luck, as you're certainly going to need it."

Ciel scowled darkly back at him, and a pleased, rather smug feeling settled over William as the demon shifted his position in the chair and drummed his fingers softly on one wooden arm, his gaze flicking about the group of assembled mortals.

"The reaper does make a good point," Ciel said softly, his voice a tad ominous. "I will not lie; when you come under my rule once more, should any of you show even the slightest signs of treason, I _will not _hesitate to eradicate the problem. I will not have a revolt on my hands because of the foolish notions of another who dares to try and take my throne." His eyes paused on the Chinese couple for a second longer than the others, their depths flashing bright ruby. Lau, unperturbed, simply curved his lips into a smile and patted Ran Mao on the head.

"Don't be so _cold,_ Earl." He said in that interesting mix of accents he had. "Ran Mao and I are in 100%. You see, the incidents before were nothing personal... I just don't like being used by anyone, not just you, if there's no real reward in it for me. However, if you'll be granting us the gift of immortality, there will be a lot more in it for me than in my last life, where all you were really doing was keeping your mouth shut about a handful of my dens. I have _hundreds _of dens, Earl, and the Chinese Mafia to back me up. Therefore, I didn't and still can't see why I owed you any loyalty back then, as you were only doing me such a small favor and asking _so much_ in return. I grew tired, and I wanted to play a different game, and I paid for it, and I swear a learned a very hard lesson because of it." He said, his hand slipping out of his sleeve to touch his side, where Ciel knew a large scar from the fight would be. "However, if you're granting me eternal life, I suppose you've earned my respect as well as my loyalty, hm? That's quite a gift to give. On my honor, neither of us shall be any trouble for you, _Lord Phantomhive."_

His tone was sweet, placating, and as convincing as a man whose life had been entirely made of lies could be; which is to say, it was sounding _very _convincing, indeed. Ciel, however, didn't seem to buy it entirely, as there was a slight, mistrustful frown on his face as he watched Lau and Ran Mao stand, bow, and then take their places next to the others who had decided to join his ranks.

"Well, we'd never do anything like that, right, Agni?" Soma chirped brightly to his butler, who smiled back at both Soma and Ciel in obvious agreement. "We're going with my little brother Ciel!"

Ciel yelped when Soma suddenly pounced upon him and wrapped him into a tight, strangling hug, instantly squeezing all of the air out of him. Agni stood by Soma, giving Ciel a bit of an apologetic smile over Soma's shoulder as the teen continued to smother his junior. Ciel growled back, doing his best to try and shove Soma off as he struggled to squirm away.

"Soma!" He gritted, obviously getting irritated. "Breathing... is a luxury... I _enjoy...!"_ He gasped, now using his feet as he attempted to pry the prince off. "Let... _go!"_

"Oh, sorry Ciel!" Soma laughed, instantly releasing and backing away from the young demon. "I guess I just forget my own strength sometimes!" Ciel scowled all the harder as a proud look crossed Soma's face, and then looked ready to rip his hand off when the prince patted him on the head and said "Maybe one day, you'll be as strong as me!"

Ciel's anger intensified when the chuckles of the Shinigami spread throughout the room, and it showed, as his eyes flashed brilliantly red as he glared at Soma. Soma blinked and backed up a little, looking more surprised than anything, and Ciel merely sniffed with displeasure and fixed his shirt with a disgruntled look on his face.

"Um, excuse me..." Inquired a soft voice from in front of Ciel, making his eyes snap up immediately to where Arthur was standing before him. Arthur offered a small, shaky smile, and Ciel responded by raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on. "...I'd be happy to join you," Arthur continued after a second, obviously nervous, as he was staring at Sebastian as though the smirking demon would rip him limb-from-limb at any second. "But I was wondering... Would you be willing to keep me as a scholar?"

"I don't see why not." Ciel responded, a calm smile perching on his face. "It never hurts to keep records, does it? As I said, Mr. Wordsmith, anything goes, so long as your loyalty is to me first."

"Thank you." Arthur responded quietly, bowing to him before taking his place with the rest of the group, looking relieved and, perhaps, even a bit excited. Most of the assembled offered him a welcoming smile, knowing that he was more or less a complete stranger to the group and that he probably felt a little intimidated. Arthur smiled back, still looking a bit uneasy, but also relieved and thankful that he seemed to be amongst a friendly enough gathering. This satisfied Ciel, who now rose to his feet, looking first at Sebastian, and then at the rest of the beings there, mortal and immortal alike.

"Well, now that that's settled," He said, his eyes falling on the group once again, the faintest signs of a hungry glint lying with their now-ruby depths.

"...Who's first?"

xxx

*It must be quite obvious by this point that I enjoy mixing characteristics of the manga and anime, and that's no different here. XD I can imagine the Circus arc (which, of course, introduced Snake to the group) and the Phantomhive Murder arc (Mr. Wordsmith was so damn cute. XD) taking place in between the time that Ash/Angela and the Queen decided "Trolololo! We pwn you!" and then Hannah went "No, THIS is how you TROLOLOLO!". Trying to frame Ciel for the murder of that dude-whose-name-I-don't-care-about would have been an excellent way for the Queen to begin her efforts to get Ciel killed and purify fucking everything. I can see it as a failed attempt that made her resort to using Lau as a puppet, with Lau having just had the misfortune to have killed that Stanley dude at around the same time that the Queen had framed him for opium distribution.

(Btw, if you don't know what I mean by "trolololo", look it up on youtube. It's glorious, and it IS the troll's anthem.)

**"Ran Mao" literally translates to "blue cat". I seriously imagine Will being a literary nerd (Look at his job. Look at his quiet, bookworm-like demeanor. Hell, look at his name.) so I bet he knows a few languages and, therefore, would know what her name meant. XD

***"Wordsmith" is just a term for someone who's "good with words", just as a metalsmith would be good with metal, etc. I don't think we ever actually heard the guy's real last name, did we? 0_o

And as far as the Shinigami and their eyes/nails... Well, how else do you explain Undertaker's eyes glowing (when he first showed up in the anime/manga) and Grell's honestly much creepier glow right before he killed Madam Red? And with their nails... Have we ever actually SEEN them with their gloves off? No, seriously. 0_o Correct me if I'm wrong here, the ONLY time a Shini never had gloves was in that blooper in Grell's "Oh, yes!" scene where the animators apparently forgot his gloves one second, but they were back on the next, with no explanation as to where they'd gone or how they'd come back. XD I mean, correct me if I'm wrong on any of this (or on any of the stuff about Lau/Ran Mao and Stanley what's-his-face. That episode was as confusing as hell.) but I'm 95% sure that the Shinigami's gloves are like, physically attached or something, lol.

Anyway, super-long chapter is super-long because I wanted to apologize for the long wait I've made you guys deal with lately. Sorry about all of that, as I'm still working out some issues, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I thank you for being so understanding about everything. You guys rock!


	62. Rivalries and Settlements

It's been over a month, hasn't it, lovelies? D8 I'm terribly sorry, really I am, but I'm afraid that my life's situation has taken a turn for the worse. Perhaps I'll explain more later, perhaps not, but all-in-all, I'm still working through some issues, and lately, I've had neither the energy nor will to sit down and write at the end of the day.

*facedesk*

Anyway, there's only this chapter and then the next, and the the story's through. Then I can hopefully fix this thing up, and then 1get cracking on the sequel, officially dubbed "Siren Song of the Fallen", and possibly distract myself from some of the issues going on.

Anyway, we have another lovely fan submission (I love you guys 3) and it's another cosplay, entitled "Really Senpai?" by Durararasm (I hope I spelled that right. XD;;) over at dA. As you can probably guess from the title, it's more WillxRon fluff.

.com/favourites/#/d3dmevq

Anyway, on to the story, and again, I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting. v_v;;

xxx

The group stood in startled, wary silence as Ciel stepped down from his throne and slowly prowled forward, the faintest hints of a smirk playing on his lips and, seemingly, his body in general. The lot of them suddenly looked a lot less eager when the realization of the looming transformation hit them, and a few even edged slightly back, looking fearful, when Ciel passed through the outer edge of the tightly-packed circle and came to a stop in the midst of them.

"Come come, now, it's not all that unpleasant," Ciel said, letting his eyes sweep over the gathered party, their depths flashing ruby as he gazed at those who seemed particularly nervous. "It only hurts for a minute, trust me. It's not all that bad." He nearly purred, his hands calmly placed inside of his pockets. "It's no worse than an injection... A single pinch, and then it's done..."

William wanted to vomit.

Still, no one made a move, and there was only the subtle sound of nervous shuffling and a sharp intake of breath from someone in the assembly. Everyone was waiting for someone else to make the first move, as none of them wanted to fall prey to a trap, and all of them-a certain Chinese couple, especially-were still very, very wary, and wondering whether or not the whole thing was an elaborate scheme to hide whatever true intentions the demons might have had. A small, displeased frown crossed Ciel's face, and he let out a long sigh, seeming to know what they were all thinking. He couldn't really blame them, of course, as he would have been wary as well, but it didn't make the situation any less... bothersome.

"...Just, how does this work...?" Asked a timid voice from the back, and Ciel looked sharply to Arthur, who was clenching and unclenching his hands nervously while simultaneously gnawing at his lip, as he had a habit of doing whenever he was getting flustered. "I mean, how do we change? _What _changes? You don't look any different from humans at all right now, but when you shed that skin..." He mumbled, trailing off as he stared warily at Sebastian, who was smiling coldly back at him, as though daring him to reveal a secret. Arthur swallowed his words and quickly refocused his eyes to his feet, cold chills crawling down his spine at the memory of Sebastian's true form... and how he was about to take one himself.

"Well, it's a tad complicated, I'll admit..." Ciel began, his frown deepening slightly when Arthur didn't really seem to buy the slightly ambiguous answer, as the man's posture tensed further, and he flicked his eyes back up to study Ciel closely, even if he was still obviously frightened. "You see-"

"The demons shall draw out your soul and your soul alone. A 'soul', by definition, is that which makes you mortal and records your life's events in the form of a Cinematic Record, and it lasts forever... unless devoured, of course." William said smoothly, not missing the chance to fix the demons with an unimpressed look. "But, it is not your life force, which is the energy that animates you and gives you life in the first place, and manifests in the form of a working, physical body. Because we are alive and have solid bodies-even though they are made of Cinematic Records-Shinigami have a life force. Demons, too, have life force, as, even soulless, they are still alive and have bodies. Anything that is alive and physical has a life force. Even zombies, though they lack awareness or thought, have a life force, but they, like most other immortals, lack most or all of the disadvantages of a mortal body, as well as a soul, which has already departed the body. Afterall, zombies do not occur naturally; they're the result of a body that has lost both the soul and the life force, and then spontaneously regained the life force under outside circumstances; namely, mortals messing about with things they shouldn't, and causing plenty of trouble for the rest of us." He said gravely, looking at the mortals as though they'd committed the crime themselves. "Ghosts, however, are lingering, forgotten souls; but, they have no life force, as their bodies have ceased to function or even exist, and they have no physical, solid form to take, which classifies them as nothing less than souls without an anchor. However, since they're no longer living beings and yet they still manage to exist, we consider them immortal, because if left alone, they will linger for eternity. However, they're easily the weakest of all things immortal, and definitely at the bottom of the totem pole." William explained without batting an eye, the faintest flicker of amusement on his face when several of the mortals jumped at his sudden, close proximity, as he'd changed his position from standing clear across the room to perhaps five feet from the crowd, all without a single sound, moving only when he'd noticed that they were all distracted with the task of digesting the information delivered by the calm monotone of his voice. "A newly-deceased body still has a soul-which is what we collect and what you _leeches _steal-because it was once alive, and that is the remainder of its conscious. But, it has no life force, as losing your life force is what causes death, and it will eventually result in the loss of the body by way of decomposition as well. However, as long as the soul is still attached to the body, revival is possible. But, once it's gone, there's no getting it back, and if your life force is gone as well, then you're utterly dead; unless, of course, some idiot brings you back as the _walking _dead. If a demon wanted to kill you-and, for the record, get a full meal out of it-they would take both, by drawing out your soul _and _your life force, which would kill you instantly, leaving you with only the possibility of coming back as a moaning sack of rotting flesh."

"Pardon how sardonic this may sound," Ciel said, the confident smirk on his face once more, though he offered no thanks for the Shinigami's rather long-winded explanation, much to William's distaste. "But this will be less of a meal and more of a snack for Sebastian and I," He said, simply nodding to Sebastian when the butler glanced his way. "And yes, Sebastian. There are ten here, I'll let you have five. You've earned your reprieve."

_I suppose he's in a good mood... _Sebastian thought to himself, but simply bowed to Ciel to show his thanks, not daring to question master and instead, merely uttered a quiet "Yes, my Lord."

Judging by the looks on their faces, the mortals sure as hell didn't share Sebastian's apparent gratitude. The silence extended on for several more long moments, each of them reconsidering their fates and wondering just how much pain-figuratively as well as literally-would be involved, before William finally let out an irritated sigh, causing everyone to look over at him once more.

"Well? I don't plan on spending the next century here. As much as I hate to lose souls in such a deplorable manner," He said, shooting a heated scowl over at Sebastian, who frowned deeply in response, as he was beginning to get honestly aggravated with the Shinigami's dirty looks. "I hate standing in here and wasting valuable time almost as much." He said sourly, turning his scowl at the mortals. "Please, _do _either get it over with, or get out. Just because I lack an expiration date, it does not mean that I lack a schedule."

"I don't want aaaann~y overtime!" Ronald said in a sing-song voice that was deceptively cheery, as it had a definite, underlying note of menace. Judging by the way that he had also moved forward to stand across from William and grin at the group as he leaned in toward them, he was not afraid to get a little bit closer to them than his superior had. As expected, the group leaned back, but the sound of William tapping his foot once in warning was all they needed to find an unsteady, uncomfortable median between the two, the majority of them having to stand at awkward angles, as no one wanted to be too close to the young demon in the center of the misshapen gathering, either.

"Overtime is... _irritating."_ Grell agreed from the left of the group, the closest spot to Sebastian, who was still standing just behind Ciel's makeshift throne, which was placed nearest to the stairs. (Unbeknownst to Sebastian, he was still just close enough to be unintentionally intimidating, even though his mind was currently wandering, thanks to a mixture of boredom and mild irritation.) A Chesire smile split Grell's face, revealing rows of razors, offering more than enough incentive for the group to ball closer together, despite Ciel's close proximity, as any more leaning would send one or two of them toppling to the floor. "It makes me cranky..."

A creaky, wavering chuckle followed the single whimper of fear (that had appeared to have come from Soma, causing Agni to grip his shoulder protectively, his eyes darting between everyone assembled), nearly drowning it out, as Undertaker took up the only remaining spot at the right of the group. He shamelessly draped his sleeves forward over his hands and leaned in the closest yet, eyes glowing yellow-green as he leered at them, as though he knew something they didn't, and that it was rather amusing and very, _very _morbid, indeed.

He didn't need words to get his point across.

Surrounded on all sides by increasingly restless Shinigami, and with two impatient demons standing much too close for comfort, the group didn't have the option of silence any longer. There was a brief pause, before, finally, a quiet, surprisingly calm voice spoke up from the midst of them.

"...With my Prince's permission," Agni spoke up softly, offering nothing besides a small smile when he received several quizzical, mildly surprised looks from his fellow mortals; Soma especially. "I would like to go first."

"What!" Soma snapped, more out of fear than anger, judging by the way he'd immediately latched onto Agni's arm and was staring up at him, wild-eyed and in utter disbelief, as though Agni had just threatened suicide. "Agni!"

"I would simply like to make certain that it is safe for everyone, especially my God, to go through with this." Agni explained calmly, the smile remaining in place on his lips, even though Soma's wide, frightened eyes looking up at him so desperately, so pleadingly, tugged painfully at something deep in his chest. "It would be an honor to ensure your well-being, Prince Soma."

"Agni..." Soma whispered, sounding grateful and astounded and so very, very pained all at once as he watched his butler gently pull away from him and head toward Sebastian. He wanted to call out, to make him hold back until someone else volunteered, but a tight knot of repressed tears had formed in his throat, and his voice was utterly lost. No matter how hard he tried, he could do nothing but watch with bated breath and a pounding, aching heart as Agni faced Sebastian, looking calm and ready, as always, though Soma knew him well enough to sense the faint trace of fear in his stance.

Somehow, then, he himself became even more apprehensive.

Terrified, really.

Sebastian's eyes flickered as he studied the taller man, and he glanced to Ciel for confirmation, making sure that he was still allowed to feed. Ciel merely gave him a curt nod, watching him calmly with cerulean eyes, looking mildly interested to see what would now happen between Sebastian and his first and closest friend. Sebastian, for his own amusement, spared William a glance, and he welcomed the smug sense of happiness that wormed its way into his chest as William set his jaw and attempted to bore Sebastian's eyes out of his skull with the sheer intensity of his glare.

Sebastian turned his eyes back to Agni, who simply gave him a small smile, tight with nerves, though the man was earnestly trying to make it as warm and welcoming as possible. Good old Agni; always the optimist, even when he was about to get his soul sucked out by a starving demon.

Funny how someone Sebastian would normally have considered foolish had punched a soft spot into his cold, dead heart that was nearly as large as the one Ciel had made.

"It's been awhile, old friend." Agni said cheerily, validating his thoughts and obviously trying to lighten the mood, even though Sebastian could smell the faint scent of the nervous sweat on his skin. "I wasn't expecting to meet again, especially not for these reasons, but it's quite nice to see you, nonetheless."

Sebastian couldn't help but let his lips tug up in a small smile of his own as an old, nostalgic fondness washed over him; a very rare and elusive feeling for him, indeed. Still, Agni was undoubtedly his favorite of all those gathered there (except, perhaps, Ciel, depending on how one would look at it) so it was hardly as surprising as it could have been. He had a feeling that, though hectic, managing Hell would be much easier and possibly even enjoyable with his fellow butler about, and he was dreading the duty quite a bit less now that he knew he'd have a little company; sometimes, even creatures as elusive and jaded as demons need someone to talk to. Though the centuries they experienced and the killing-for-a-living lifestyle they led often made them cold of heart, they had still, if only long ago, been human once, and sometimes old emotions dug themselves up once again. Indeed, some demons never lost some of their emotions at all, and Sebastian had a feeling that Agni would probably end up being just that sort of demon; the sort of demon that still took some amount of pity for mortals, and often held off feeding for as long as possible, because they suffered regret for being what they were.

Sebastian used to think them weak, but, he had a feeling that, as with many other things, Agni just might be able to change his perception.

Regardless, Sebastian quickly set his mouth into a straight, to-the-business line once more, and sighed softly, judging the height difference with cool, almost cynical eyes, looking a little miffed that he would probably have to do something as graceless as tiptoeing to feed. Agni simply looked back at him, biting the inside of his lip nervously, his hands clenching at his sides as he awaited Sebastian's verdict. Finally, Sebastian closed his eyes and spoke calmly, his voice blunt and matter-of-fact.

"While it's... pleasant, to see you again as well, Agni, I'll have to ask that you keep quiet for the next minute or so, lest this becomes too... _awkward." _He said simply, taking a half-step closer to him. Agni's eyes widened when Sebastian suddenly seized his chin between his fingers to hold him in place, watching him with stunned silence, having not expected the sudden touch at all. "Don't worry, you'll only feel a pinch..."

Agni held stock still as Sebastian fastened his mouth over his own, hardly daring to believe what was going on. His limbs had frozen in shock, and his eyes somehow widened even further; he hadn't really been expecting such a sudden, rather... intimate touch from the demon. Though he normally would have protested in some way, all sounds but a weak gasp of shock had left him, and he could only stand and stare owlishly at the raven-haired man before him.

His shock only lasted a second, however; the next moment, it, and every other emotion and thought going on in his brain, was replaced by the overwhelming, excruciating, agonizing _pain _that blossomed in his chest and rapidly spread through every other nerve in his body, moving and burning and snaking and spreading like Nature's hottest, deadliest wildfire.

It felt as though something, something he had always had, had always felt, however vaguely, but hadn't been quite aware of, deep inside his chest, was being ripped in half, and then shredded to bits. There was a terrible, terrible tearing, burning agony at a particular center point, seemingly right behind his heart, and within a split second, the pain was so great that he could not even scream or fight, even if he'd had the conscious though to do so. In fact, it was all he could do right then to struggle, weakly, and his pitiful resistance was instantly halted by the iron grip Sebastian now had on either of his arms. He was utterly helpless as the utter agony he was in somehow, rapidly, doubled and redoubled and grew in intensity, and his vision quickly whited-out, and then faded to black as he finally lapsed into merciful unconsciousness.

Sebastian, eyes burning with the distinctive pink-red glow of a feasting demon, was honestly having a little trouble holding himself back. He hadn't eaten in over half a decade, and he'd been downright ravenous for the last several months, ever since he'd lost the delicious morsel otherwise known as Ciel's soul. It was only when Agni went limp in his grip did he finally, with a great surge of willpower, release his hold on his fellow butler, mistakenly letting him fall to the ground as he struggled to regain his self control. The emptiness in his chest was roiling, seemingly with pleasure, and, after a moment, it finally subsided, minimally relieved after the meager meal. Indeed, Sebastian immediately found himself craving more, as he'd really only succeeded in stirring the fires of his hunger instead of quenching it. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth, surveying the remaining mortals with an eager, animalistic glint in his still-glowing eyes. They cowered back, wild-eyed, save for a certain young Indian, who looked more terrified for his butler than he ever could have been of Sebastian.

_"AGNI!" _Soma shrieked with fear as he watched his butler fall, his eyes wide and filling with tears of panic. He immediately shoved his way through the crowd and ran for his beloved butler, hoping against hope that he'd be able to help before Agni struck the cold, hard stone below.

Thankfully, young Finnian was just a little bit faster and a hell of a lot stronger than Soma, and he managed to dart forward and catch Agni at the last second, saving him from a painful landing on the hard stone floor. He was able to hold the larger, older man up with great ease, and he gently, carefully laid him down, frowning with obvious worry as Soma sank to his knees beside his companion, whimpering and biting back sobs of panic as he gently shook Agni, trying to rouse him once more.

"Young Master..." Finnian questioned timidly, shooting an extremely worried look over to the young prince, and then looking back to Ciel with wide-eyed distress. "Is he...?"

"It's normal," Ciel responded coolly, looking impassive, almost cold as he surveyed the scene before him. "It happened to me as well; he'll be awake in a moment, though he's bound to be a little weak. Just be patient."

Ciel glanced up as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and he quirked an eyebrow as William walked toward him. Sebastian's gaze whipped to the Head Shinigami as well, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he surveyed his rival, sincerely expecting him to try something he'd regret.

_Deeply._

William was, indeed, highly agitated, judging by the rigid clench of his jaw, and the tic in his temple that suggested that his pulse was up. His obvious anger made Sebastian rightfully suspicious and downright overprotective of Ciel in that instant, and the demon moved like lightning, wasting no time in the defense of his young lord.

William blocked the blow Sebastian had aimed at his face easily, his hand catching Sebastian's fist without a hitch, despite the fact that the Shinigami had barely even spared him a glance. Sebastian had crossed the room in a heartbeat, so fast he'd been a blur, and his rapid, pounding footsteps had nearly drowned out the sound of the angry hisses of the other Shinigami, who'd all moved at least three steps closer, and had now formed a half-circle around the three of them. (Ronald was closest to Sebastian, and, in that instant, his eyes were set to kill.) Sebastian now stood defensively between Ciel and William, his eyes as cold as ice and as sharp as razors as he stared down the Death God, daring him to take another step.

"Calm yourself, demon," William hissed through his teeth, his eyes slits, as he was pissed enough already without having to deal with Sebastian and his paranoia. "I wish to make a proposal to your precious child, nothing more." He snorted, releasing Sebastian's fist with an irritated grind of his teeth. "Don't fool yourself into believing that I'll be spending any more time here than necessary, or that I'm even going to bother with fighting you. There aren't enough hours in a day to scrub away the _filth _that will be left upon my clothes after such blasphemy."

Sebastian opened his mouth to make a very nasty retort, one that would have cursed William, his Library, and his mother to the very darkest, slimiest depths of the Mortal Realm, his body simultaneously tensing for another attack, namely, of the physical kind, when Ciel spoke up from behind him.

"That's enough, Sebastian." Ciel said simply, laying a hand on the demon's side and brushing him away, much to Sebastian's bitter disappointment. Sebastian obeyed, however reluctantly, and he stepped aside without another word, glaring bloody murder at William over Ciel's head. "Go ahead and figure out who else you'll be turning, I'll deal with Mr. Spears."

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian gritted, though he was obviously wishing to the high heavens that he could've reached out and choked the Shinigami. Still, he moved off obediently, but not before he and William exchanged another poisonous glare, promising each other much pain and suffering at the first chance they got.

"Now, what is it that you wish to request, Spears?" Ciel said calmly, in such a tone that would have been pleasant, had the arrogant, self-assured smirk not been planted firmly upon Ciel's face, ruining the illusion of a kindly gentleman. "A... _contract,_ of sorts?" He asked with a quiet, devious chuckle. "It can be arranged..."

_"No."_ William snapped back, the heat of anger flushing his body at Ciel's words, obviously having been very offended at the suggestion that he wished to do something as despicable as forming a Faustian Contract with the demon. "Absolutely _not._ It's merely an agreement for a semi-peaceful treaty between our two societies, Phantomhive. Granted, it's a blood oath, which is asking for more than I'd like to be in debt for, but I think it's going to be a necessary and useful tool, should the past repeat itself again."

"Oh?" Ciel inquired, raising an eyebrow as William reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a piece of parchment. "And just what would I be swearing to, reaper?"

"Feel free to read over it," William said, thrusting the contract at Ciel none-too-kindly. "But, in essence, it states that neither of our species will be allowed to kill either a member of the opposite species, or one of our own kind, without the permission and observance of the leader of the opposite group. Basically, a Death Scythe shall no longer be used with deadly force against anyone but the mortal souls who are being reaped; self defense is allowed, and injuries, minor or otherwise, shall not be punished, but should one or the other party die, and there was no permission given by the opposite side for an execution to be performed, then the being who killed the other shall be put to death as well, to reconcile for his or her actions."

"Hmm..." Ciel pondered, eyes scanning over the parchment as he sought to confirm William's explanation. "I see... That would certainly be beneficial to both sides, as we won't be troubled by the worry of becoming out of balance due to another mass slaying, and it would certainly deter excessive violence on the field, when everyone's competing for souls. Yes, I do believe I like this idea, but if being a noble taught me anything, it's that you need to read the fine print. I hope you don't mind?" He asked dryly, obviously sarcastic as to whether or not he wanted the Shinigami's permission. Without waiting for an answer, he strode back over to his makeshift throne and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other as he began to read the proposal in detail. William gave a snort of contempt and strode back over to the other three Shinigami, motioning for them to back off, obviously unimpressed.

"Be my guest." He said, an equally sarcastic note in his own voice. Ronald appraised him with obvious respect as he took his place beside the blond, impressed with his idea, as he honestly never would have thought of anything like that himself. Undertaker looked rather openly proud of his creation at that moment, though he simply gave William a small nod of approval before averting his gaze to the wall opposite, a faint smile on his lips, even though he didn't wish to spoil him with praise. William had noticed the nod, however, and Ronald was sure that he saw William relax just the faintest amount, as though Undertaker's approval cheered him just slightly.

Grell, however, seemed rather uninterested with the inner-workings of the paperwork, as per-usual, and instead, was preoccupied with watching the mortals, open curiosity as well as amusement written on his face.

Agni was stirring, and Soma let out a long breath of relief when his eyes flickered, before finally, after an agonizingly long moment, blinking open once more, a groggy, disoriented glaze to them. Soma's breath caught in his throat, however, when he saw the pink-red glow in his eyes, identical to Sebastian's, and the slitted pupils that his butler now possessed.

"Woah..." He breathed, earning a perplexed look from Agni, who immediately tried to sit up to see what was wrong, too confused to even remember what had just happened. His elbows trembled and nearly gave out, however, and a wave of dizziness washed over him, making him sway and pale. He immediately laid back down, a tad heavily, and Soma yelped and gripped his arm with worry, mistakenly digging his nails in and making Agni wince.

"Give him a minute." Sebastian said calmly, sounding almost bored as he eyed the remaining mortals, sizing up his next target. "He just needs some time to adjust to the change."

"Speaking of changes," Ciel spoke up dryly from where he was sitting, not even bothering to look up from the document. "You'll notice your bodies taking on a few... _primal _qualities as they adjust to the absence of your souls. A fang here, a claw there, perhaps a few feathers or scales or a bit of fur in your natural forms, but it's easily hidden by taking on a human body. You'll need to do that, anyway, if you choose to make contracts later on; it's the only way to blend in in the Mortal Realm, and it's much less nerve-wracking for the humans, which is why we're 'human' now." He said, glancing at them for the briefest second, before his eyes flicked back to the paper. "Just keep in mind that whenever your body is in human form, you're recording a Cinematic Record, and the longer you stay in that form, the longer-and clearer a target-your Record becomes." He said, giving William a sideways glance.

"If I was still interested in slaying the lot of you, do you really think I'd be wasting my time with blood oaths?" William growled back moodily, adjusting his glasses with two fingers, letting out a soft scoff. "Absurd. Though I'd certainly _love _to get rid of you, it's, sadly, just not possible. I'm merely trying to make things easier on myself, instead, since I can't have my cake and eat it, too."

Ciel merely shrugged in response, and returned back to his reading, not interested in bickering at that particular moment. No, he'd save that for Sebastian.

"Why didn't you tell us this beforehand?" Soma whined nervously, still kneeling next to a dizzied Agni.

"And how long before we take on these 'traits'?" Lau interjected, giving Snake a sideways glance from one barely-cracked eye. Snake frowned back at him and scooted a few inches farther away, quite shy of the sudden attention, and rather displeased with the speculation that he was already demonic. He lowered his eyes, trying to appear as harmless as possible, so as to slip under the radar again; though he'd heard such speculation often whenever he had been in the Circus, it had never truly lost its painful sting.

"Leave 'im alone, Lau." Bard said dryly, though he was eying the demon butler warily and gnawing nervously at the end of his cigarette as Sebastian's gaze found him, not focusing his full attention on the Chinese man. "If he was a demon, he would have been here way before us, and he'd be gettin' a share of the souls, too. Don't be stupid."

Lau simply continued to study Snake for a moment, then merely closed his eye once more and shrugged noncommittally as Snake shot Bard a grateful look, which Bard responded to with a small smile.

His own smile, and all good humor, however, had vanished from Lau at the sight of Agni's transformation, and he was nervous, judging by the way he was holding Ran Mao particularly close, and how Ran Mao was extremely watchful once more.

Snake slid a bit closer to Bard, who instinctively leaned away from the snake on Snake's arm that was reaching its neck out toward him, scenting the air with rapid flicks of its forked tongue. Despite all the time he'd spent around Snake and his pets, and the fact that Snake had grown on him quite a bit over the last year or so, he had not, and did not think that he ever _would,_ entirely get over the fear of those snakes. There was just something utterly terrifying about worrying whether or not you'd die in the dead of night because you'd rolled over on a misplaced black mamba in your sleep. Bard didn't really care that Snake had ordered his pets to behave; even if they were supposedly harmless (which, Finny, being the loving naturalist he was, would have attested to) he was still going to give them plenty of space. Snake knew how he felt, though, so he didn't look discouraged when Bard leaned away from him, as he had spent too much time around the cook to be afraid of receiving judgement from him anymore.

Bard's train of thought was derailed, however, when Sebastian finally answered, his voice still even and relaxed, almost to the point of being cold.

"Oh, perhaps a year or two, perhaps less. It varies, but it's not immediate. For the most part, you'll probably start noticing after a month." He said simply, taking a few steps closer to the group once more. "And before any of you ask, common sense should say that we take on animalistic qualities because when we're in human form, we're more than likely under contract and, therefore, we're recording Cinematic Records. Our bodies become inhuman in appearance to avoid any unnecessary recording, simple as that." He added briskly. "Too much information can be deadly for demons, as you now know, and when you think about it, most immortals only vaguely resemble humans, anyway. Angels, demons... even Shinigami have some odd traits about them, right, Mr. Spears?" Sebastian inquired smoothly, smirking when William instantly bristled like an aggravated porcupine.

"Keep me out of this, demon." He snapped. "As I said, I'm only dealing with you imbeciles as much as I have to, and no more."

Sebastian chuckled softly to himself, and simply turned back to the humans, giving the irate Shinigami no other chance to snap at him... for now, anyway.

"Well, then... who's next?"

And so they spent the next half hour, with Sebastian changing the next four of his volunteers; Maylene (who'd hardly hesitated when she realized that she'd finally be able to kiss Sebastian, even if it wasn't technically a kiss, or evenly remotely reminiscent of how she actually wanted it to be), then Tanaka (who didn't seem to be in a rush, as usual, but didn't seem to want to waste time, either. Upon collapsing, he'd also deflated into his "false" form, earning a look from William and Ronald ((as Grell had seen him like that often during his time in the manor, and Undertaker had as well, being one of the Evil Noblemen)) that was akin to someone who'd just seen a pygmy hippopotamus give birth to a hedgehog.), followed by Lau and Ran Mao (who didn't trust the young demon enough to let him do the changing, since Ciel still seemed highly suspicious of them, indeed, and the feeling was rather mutual. Even if Sebastian was still under Ciel's complete control, he seemed like the lesser of two evils, so to speak.).

Finally, when there were four unconscious, newly-turned demons on the ground, and a single groggy, disoriented demon leaning on the concerned mortals surrounding him, Ciel finished his review of William's proposal. He glanced up at Sebastian, whose eyes were still glowing from his minor feast, (which had been just enough to tie him over, until he could get a proper meal) and whose face was a strange mixture of satisfaction and greed, and then back to William, who was ramrod straight and clenching and unclenching his fists at the sight of losing so many souls, the leather of his gloves creaking softly in protest at the motions. Grell, fearing the wrath of William's temper and the mounds of paperwork that usually followed in its wake, had grabbed Undertaker and scooted a safe distance away some time ago, and was stealing nervous glances over at the steaming Shinigami every few seconds. Undertaker wisely said nothing, and merely watched the proceedings with bright green, calm eyes, not seeming particularly enthused about everything, but not too bothered, either. Even the five remaining mortals had moved off to the far right of the room some time ago, putting a fair amount of distance between themselves and the immortals; William especially. Indeed, the only one who was brave enough to stay within ten feet of William at that moment was Ronald, who was staring at him nervously from the corner of his eye and shifting from foot-to-foot, sincerely expecting to get slapped upside the head at any second for even the smallest offense. He was sticking by both for moral support, and so he could act extra-quickly if William ordered something. It was his duty as vice president, afterall, and may the Gods above help him if he were to screw it up now, of all days, and when William was so visibly upset.

Ciel smirked with satisfaction at William's anger, then covered his mouth with one hand to hide the smug display, leaning his elbow on one knee as he spoke.

"I've read over your contract, Mr. Spears," He said coolly, delighting in the way William somehow looked even angrier at Ciel's purposeful use of the word "contract". "Everything seems to be in order, and I'll go through with this oath. However, I merely ask for one thing in return."

William considered him carefully, stone silent for a long moment. As far as favors went, he considered himself, however ruefully, in quite a bit of debt to the demons. In all fairness, and though William never would have admitted it to their faces, the demons had most likely saved his friends, his Library, William himself, and definitely the Realms through their treason to the other demons. Granted, Ciel was still very young, in more than one sense, and he was used to scoping out schemes and plots and other such dirty business from his servitude to the Queen, which was most likely why he hadn't fallen for Lucifer's insane regimen to take over the Realms. Sebastian, being his butler and eternal slave, was forced to do whatever Ciel said, no matter what he thought, but William had the feeling that if he'd truly wanted to, he could have found a way to rat Ciel out-and set himself free in the process-and gotten away with it, while simultaneously gaining quite a bit of rank and respect in the Demon Realm. However, he'd obviously stayed loyal to the end (typical mutt) and was now reaping his reward, however meager it was. (Besides, he'd probably learned how to detect idiotic agendas just as well as Ciel after hanging around the kid so much, but that was beside the point.)

So, since it ate him from the inside out to be in debt to such monstrous creatures, William was ready to just get it over with and settle the score, so he'd be free to say "no" to the demons whenever he damn well pleased as soon as possible. Therefore, he sighed irritably and pushed his glasses up with two fingers, hoping that Ciel wouldn't ask for anything too humiliating.

"Fine." He gritted, eyes narrowing as he studied the young lord. "What do you want?"

He was expecting Ciel to ask for something outlandish and outrageous; full access to his Library, maybe, or the right to all the souls in London, or some other place William was especially fond of, without interference. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when Ciel waved his hand airily, as though he could read William's mind and all the racing thoughts within it, and thought them childish.

"Though you may feel as though you owe me a great deal, Mr. Spears," Ciel said, fixing him with a brilliant ruby eye once again. "You must realize that I've gained quite a lot from this entire incident. I will not deny that without you Shinigami, I couldn't have overthrown those around me, and gained the power I have now." He said, a delighted smile on his face when a look of horrified disgust crossed William's, who had just realized the truth in Ciel's words. "I have the ability to build Hell as I wish, now, and I have more power now than I have ever had or dreamt of having before, and for that, I consider your debt to us-both in the forms of the help you received in the war, and the contract we're about to sign-repaid. Therefore, I shall consider us entirely even and without any sort of debt to one another if you will answer me but one thing; what is to become of my dear Elizabeth?"

William raised an eyebrow, as even he was unable to hide the overwhelming surprise he felt. Undertaker was now staring at the two of them, head tilted curiously, quietly pondering the turn of events himself. Grell looked fairly amused, judging by the faint smirk on his face, which was rivaled only by an elated Ronald's relieved smile. (Sebastian was giving Ciel a look behind his back that plainly said "What the fuck are you doing? Take more than that!", however.) Giving out classified information such as that was against his morals, of course, but it was asking a hell of a lot less than what William was expecting. Keeping everything he owned and the majority of his pride?

Tempting.

Therefore, he readjusted his glasses, then held out one hand as he took a few steps forward to stand before Ciel. A book materialized there, out of thin air, and he caught it easily as it fell, before cracking it open and beginning to read in a calm monotone, coming to a stop before the young demon.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford, born September 6th, 1876, and who, on May 27th, 1890, is currently at the age of thirteen." He said, not even glancing up at Ciel for confirmation. He was the ruler of the Shinigami, and had been for over three centuries; he knew what he was doing. "Scheduled to die on October 23rd, 1939, at the age of sixty-three, due to heart failure. Shall pass peacefully in her sleep, and, if the current text remains true, she shall be lived on by three children, four grandchildren, and a single great-grandson, as well as her wealthy, loving husband of forty-six years; specifically, a French Duke, to keep the bloodline royal." He finished, closing the book with a _snap!_ and raising an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"What do you mean, 'if the current text remains true'?" Ciel asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing as he studied the Shinigami, as though daring him to lie. William sighed and let the book vanish, readjusting his glasses once more as he spoke slowly, as though explaining something very obvious to a small, naive child.

"Fate is a non-existent tale made up by fools who do not wish to accept the consequences of their actions, or the fact that they have no control over what can happen, Mr. Phantomhive. To put it in plain English, nothing is set in stone, and books that have not yet been finalized by the collection of a Cinematic Record are constantly changing. What happens to Ms. Middleford is entirely based upon her decisions and the consequences they produce, and, currently, if she keeps on the path that she is traveling, she'll die a happy, wealthy, well-loved lady. However, even as the supervisor of the workings of Life and Death, and a man who receives his orders directly from those of whom we shall never set eyes on, I cannot say for certain if that is how her _life _shall truly be led, as, in the end, that's entirely up to her. The very deaths themselves, however, rarely change their course, and I will say that I'm very certain that she will die a peaceful death. _Do _stop moping; it could be far worse, and she's got another half-century ahead of her."

Ciel relaxed, then, and a faint, faraway, oddly peaceful smile crossed his face, as wistful as it was slight, and even a bit sad.

"Yes, I suppose so..." He mused quietly to himself staring off into space for a short moment, before sighing softly. "Yes, that will be all. I'll be sure to keep an eye on her, though. Just because you Shinigami aren't allowed to interfere with the lives of the mortals, doesn't mean that we demons can't." He said, instantly perking back up, the same superior, cocky tone in his voice.

"You're only allowed to because it's the only way you _animals _can survive," William responded rather snippily. "We're merely the neutral body, guiding the dead as efficiently and discreetly as possible. I prefer to not muddle about with beings as naive and bothersome as mortals, anyway." William said shortly, clearly developing a headache, judging by the increased pounding of tic in his temple. "Now, can we _please _get the oath under way, so you can turn the others and begin finding some more recruits, and I can go home just a little bit faster?"

Ciel chuckled and looked to Sebastian, who held his look for a minute, then, seeming to have either received silent orders, or simply possessing the intuition to know when and what Ciel wanted, grabbed a small, nearby stool and approached the young demon. Wordlessly, he set it down before Ciel, ignoring the furious look William was giving him for passing by so closely and, instead, merely stood back and took his place behind Ciel once more, content to stay and watch.

"Very well, Mr. Spears." Ciel said simply, resting his chin in one hand and studying the Shinigami with mild interest as he set the parchment down on the stool between them. "How do we go about preforming this blood oath?"

"It's quite simple. Ronald, do you still have that knife I gave you?" William said shortly, glancing back at the blond expectantly, as Ronald had hung back a respectful five feet.

Ronald jumped with surprise at being beckoned so suddenly, then hurriedly pulled open his jacket and fumbled about in one of the inner pockets for a second, his face flushing with panic as he felt the eyes of most everyone in the room on him. After a moment that lasted far too long for his taste, he produced the sheathed knife from his jacket and walked forward, closing the small distance between them. William held out his hand, and Ronald placed it into his waiting palm respectfully, before taking a few large steps backward, resuming his previous position and, wisely, choosing to watch from a distance.

William gave a curt nod of thanks to Ronald, then slipped off one of his gloves with a single, fluid motion. (Revealing, to no one's surprise, fingernails that were jet-black, not the periwinkle blue that Ciel had previously suggested.) He tucked the glove into his pocket and then, with a single flick of his hand, the knife was a spinning blur, and then a sharp, shining blade clutched firmly in his hand. The pair of demons (the older of which seemed a tad wary, as he was studying the knife the the faintest suggestions of unease on his features) the remaining mortals, and the three other Shinigami all watched intently as William pressed the sharp edge of the blade to his palm, and then drew it sharply to the side. (Ronald cringed visibly and bit back a sympathetic, worried whimper, but, thankfully, everyone was too busy staring at William to notice.) Instantly, his skin parted, and a few drops of blood beaded rapidly, before meshing together to form a larger, dark red drop of blood. He closed his fist and held it over the contract, speaking in a low, clear voice that carried across the room.

"I do so solemnly swear, by my blood and my breath, to respect, honor, and uphold this treaty, or may my breath stop, and my veins run dry." He said, eyes focused on the parchment as he gave his fist a single squeeze, watching as a large, crimson drop tracked between his fingers and fell to the paper below. The drop hovered upon the surface of the parchment for a long second, before slowly sinking in and then, miraculously, disappearing into the paper.

He then drew his hand back and allowed it to hang casually at his side as he gave Ciel an expectant look, ignoring the gentle _pat, pat _of his blood against the stone floor, the way Sebastian was giving him a look of utter disdain, or how Ronald was as white as a sheet and looking as though he might vomit. (Grell was giving the blond a very worried look, seeming tempted to run to his side, despite the fact that it would mean getting closer to the still-irritated William.)

"That's it?" Ciel asked, sounding a tad surprised at how simple the whole ordeal was. William simply gave a curt nod and extended the arm of his injured hand, the motion opening his jacket just enough to allow him to reach inside with the other and pull out a small, neatly wrapped bundle.

"That's it." He said simply, exchanging a sharp look with Sebastian, who was watching him like a particularly suspicious hawk as he opened the bundle, hardly daring to relax when William revealed a harmless roll of gauze and some adhesive. William scoffed to himself and wordlessly tossed the knife back to Ronald (who looked like he might've fainted when he saw the small smear of blood on the blade, not noticing the sympathetic look Grell shot him, or the faint chuckle that Undertaker emitted) before beginning to wrap his hand, utterly ignoring the demons, though he was waiting on Ciel to uphold his end of the deal.

Ciel shrugged noncommittally, then raised a hand and sank his fangs into his palm, instantly drawing blood. He extended forth his arm, just as William had done, and closed his hand into a fist, the blood already beginning to track through his fingers in shining rivulets.

"I do so solemnly swear, by my blood and my breath, to respect, honor, and uphold this treaty, or may my breath stop, and my veins run dry." He repeated, just as a shining red drop fell to the paper. It paused for a second, just as William's own blood had, before sinking into the page and disappearing without a trace. Satisfied, Ciel drew his hand back, turning his eyes back to William as Sebastian immediately took his hand and pressed a handkerchief to it to stem the flow of blood.

"So, Mr. Spears, what happens if one of us were to break the oath?" He inquired calmly, a faint smile on his face as William finished dressing his wound and flexed his hand experimentally, testing the hold of the bandages. Apparently satisfied, he pulled his glove out of his pocket and tugged it back on.

"I'm not entirely sure, as I've never made one before, but I'm sure Mr. Michaelis and a certain Mr. Faustus can attest to the claim that very foul luck follows when one breaks such a treaty?" William questioned casually, though there was no mistaking the triumphant smirk that crossed his face when Sebastian's eyes instantly blazed red, and the demon's stance turned from "mildly pissed" to "I'm going to fucking kill you". Even Ciel's smile vanished, and a stray snicker issued from Grell and his beau as Ciel glanced over at Sebastian, eyebrow quirked.

That was, until Sebastian retaliated with his own remark, which struck much harder below the belt than he had initially known.

"You're one to speak of foul luck, Spears," The demon hissed, his pride obviously injured by William making jabs at his enslavement, and just how it had come to be. "But, judging by your age, you were but one of millions who died at the hand of the Black Death, correct? Perhaps not during the first sweep, but one of the ones that followed?"

William froze, his expression darkening instantly, and the Shinigami behind him all went as still as stone, their eyes wide with shock, as they seemed to sense what was coming, and didn't like it in the least. Sebastian was on a fast road into dangerous territory, and judging by how his lips curved up in a smile, he was either oblivious, or suicidal.

"I did _not _die because of the Black Death," William spat so vehemently that Sebastian nearly grinned, meeting William's flint-hard eyes with his own calm, burgundy-colored eyes.

"Really? I thought Shinigami didn't have the luxury of remembering their past lives? If one lays with the rats, as you seem so very fond of doing, Mr. Spears, one is simply _begging _to catch the plague, so I'm quite sure that you're lying to me."

"Now, now..." A voice with a rather distinct accent spoke up from across the room, before William had the chance to slap Sebastian's teeth straight out of his face. Everyone glanced over at Lau, who was just sitting up from his position on the floor, his eyes open and a distinct shade of pink-red. Ran Mao, who had been changed first and was slightly more recovered, was helping him into a sitting position, and, around him, the other newly-born demons were beginning to stir. Agni was now standing-steady on his feet, and had been calmly and quietly reassuring a frantic, worried Soma that he was perfectly fine, before the argument had begun, and the two had become distracted by the spat between the two rivals. Tanaka, ever one to both act and recover quickly, was already standing on his feet and helping a dizzy, stunned Maylene to hers. Just like everyone else, they'd all stopped in their tracks when the squabble had started, and now everyone's attention-irate Shinigami and smug demon alike-was focused on Lau. "We just formed a blood contract. Can't we all just get along, even if it's just for now?" He asked with a simple, albeit weak, shrug, his eyes calmly sliding closed once more. "Here, I'll start... Ran Mao, why don't you go apologize for being so hasty earlier, hm?"

Before he really knew or even had the chance to comprehend what was happening, Ronald suddenly found his face being hugged into a rather large pair of full, soft breasts, and his face instantly flamed red with a blush as Ran Mao began to pet his hair lovingly.

"Sorry." She said simply, in a voice that was low and almost mystic, immediately forcing Ronald to shift in such a way as to avoid exposing any... _embarrassing _changes to his wardrobe. No matter where he looked, his vision was full of voluptuous, smooth, ivory flesh, and he could do nothing but shut his eyes tightly and pray that William knew that he wasn't trying to be unfaithful as Ran Mao's petting served to worsen his sudden "ailment".

"S'okay..." He squeaked helplessly, trying his best to ignore the obvious giggling that was coming from several people in the room, including the ever-shameless Undertaker, and Lau himself. Ran Mao continued to pet his hair as though he were her favorite person in existence, and then, as if to torment him, hugged him closer, muffling his voice as his face was pressed further into her well-endowed chest. "I'm okay..."

William, however, didn't really seem to notice nor care, as he appeared to have acquired tunnel-vision, judging by the way he was still glaring so venomously at Sebastian. His lip had curled back with disgust and pure outrage, exposing a fang that, as Sebastian had mentioned earlier, attributed to his "odd traits".

"I did _not, _nor do I _now, _'lay with the rats', you filthy beast." He spat, like a tomcat who was baring his claws in preparation for a fight; which was, honestly, more or less what he was doing. "For your information, when inquired, my creator was kind enough to inform me of my passing. I died in 1568, during a time when the plague was far less happenstance."

"But, Mr. Spears! There were several smaller outbreaks after that, I made sure of it!" Sebastian said with a mock-sympathetic, condescending note in his voice, as one would use with a small child who was talking back, but too young to be properly scolded. William took the bait, as he bristled instantly, and judging by the way everyone was dead-silent once more, they were all hanging onto his every word; even Ciel who, though he saw the argument as childish and unnecessary, was far too engrossed to have it end yet. Therefore, he said nothing when Sebastian recited a short, macabre little ditty, one which had often been repeated during flippant, sometimes humorous recounts of the plague, both by mortals and immortals alike.

"_'"A sickly season," the merchant said,_

_"The town I left was filled with dead,_

_and everywhere these queer red flies_

_crawled upon the corpses' eyes,_

_eating them away."_

_"Fair make you sick," the merchant said,_

_"They crawled upon the wine and bread._

_Pale priests with oil and books,_

_bulging eyes and crazy looks,_

_dropping like the flies."_

_"I had to laugh," the merchant said,_

_"The doctors purged, and dosed, and bled;_

_"And proved through solemn disputation_

_"The cause lay in some constellation._

_"Then they began to die."_

_"First they sneezed," the merchant said,_

_"And then they turned the brightest red,_

_Begged for water, then fell back._

_With bulging eyes and face turned black,_

_they waited for the flies."_

_"I came away," the merchant said,_

_"You can't do business with the dead._

_"So I've come here to ply my trade._

_"You'll find this to be a fine brocade..."_

_And then he sneezed. '_"*

"I _drowned!" _William snarled so loudly that it echoed back against the walls, though he didn't even seem to care about his sudden loss of composure. "I was crossing the River Thames by boat when, no thanks to high winds and the poor current that came of them, I was set off-course into an area of particularly fast water. I lost control, the damned boat capsized, and I struck my head on a rock and fell unconscious, then _drowned!_ It had nothing to do with you or your blasted plague!"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the Shinigami's ruffled state, clearly more amused than he'd be in ages, and, finally, spoke the words that synched the noose that killed the possibility that William would _ever _see him as anything more than a worthless, despicable, soul-sucking bottomfeeder.

"Well, then, I suppose not. But perhaps the rock didn't have anything to do with it, either. I'm willing to bet that it was your thick skull and your hard, heavy head that, for the first-but certainly not the last-time, that led to your demise."

Grell took in a sharp gasp, clapping a hand over his mouth in shock, and Ronald froze, the flush fading from his face as his skin paled and his eyes snapped open, hardly daring to believe what he'd just heard. Even Undertaker looked utterly dumbstruck, and it registered in the low, disbelieving _"Oh..."_ that escaped his lips.

What Sebastian had done was, to a Shinigami, utterly unspeakable. It was a complete taboo in the Shinigami Realm, and to insult someone in such a way was to just _beg _for the brawl of your afterlife. What he had done was worse than unforgivable, and it was the highest insult in Shinigami society; second only to defiling a fellow Shinigami's very grave.

He'd mocked William's death, and doing so to _any _Shinigami was one of the dumbest things you could do, and you only did so if you sincerely hated yourself and wanted to die.

Doing so to the Head Shinigami?

Quite possibly even more idiotic than telling Grell an abortion joke.

In that moment, it was so utterly quiet throughout the entire building, that you could have heard an ant sigh. For a long, tense count, the brunette Shinigami merely stared at Sebastian, seemingly too shocked to be angry, much less in the utter rage he should have been in. Instead, the heavy silence reigned, with all eyes on the two immortals, no one daring to move, and all of them reluctant to breathe.

Then, amazingly, after what must have been the most intense silence in the history of Hell, William straightened his stance, correcting his position from the hostile sort of leaning toward the demon he had been occupying, to his usual, ramrod-straight posture. He took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long, low sigh, running his hands over his head to straighten any chocolate locks that may have fallen out of place. When he spoke, his voice was even and calm, almost carefree, and, shockingly, he sounded almost... _flippant _about the entire situation.

"Well, then, let's get on with things," He said simply, turning his back on Sebastian and striding away, seemingly taking the higher road, which, judging by the look on Sebastian's face, startled him quite a bit. "Mr. Phantomhive, if you'd please change the others, let's speed things along and open the Mortal Realm once again. I'd like to send the newly-turned demons out to find more recruits, and as a word of advice to them, please try to choose those of whom you know will be unquestionably obedient to both you and Mr. Phantomhive. As we said before, we want to avoid any rebellions, however minor, at any cost, understood?"

"We could find plenty of people back at the palace, right, Prince?" Agni inquired to Soma, obviously trying to help William ease the tension. Soma gave him a small. strained smile and a slight, shaky nod, even though the newly-Satanic nature of his butler and the current goings-on had him right next to terrified.

"Very good, then. Remember that we wanted sixty-nine new demons, and since the lot of you account for ten, we'll need fifty-nine more. Make a list now, and tally up the total number of options amongst yourselves before you bring anyone back; it'll save us a good deal of time."

"That can be arranged," Ciel said, looking a tad perplexed as he studied the Shinigami, who was acting as though he hadn't ever heard the gravest insult possible from the demon. (Indeed, Sebastian himself still appeared to be downright baffled, and he dropped his guard a bit to simply stare, dumbstruck, as the Shinigami casually continued on with his life. ) Pausing for only a second more, the young lord appeared to shake off his surprise and stood, approaching the remaining mortals with a calm, even gait. William spared him a glance, then turned toward the other three Shinigami (and Ran Mao, who was still smothering a certain "unfortunate" blond with her "assets"), still perfectly at ease.

"Grell, Undertaker, I'd appreciate it if you'd go and keep an eye on the demons while they're rounding up the humans. Ronald, you're in charge here, as I'd still like to have one other Shinigami with me while I keep an eye on the demons here. Please keep a close watch on the Book, and the Bookmark and Pen as well, as I'm officially putting them in your possession until further notice."

"Um, o-okay," Ronald stuttered, voice muffled thanks to the fleshy mounds still obscuring his face, which was still tinted a flushing, rosy red. "...Wait, why am I-"

William promptly turned his back on Ronald, not giving the blond a chance to finish his question, and the blond began to fidget and struggle to get away from the she-demon holding him. He was utterly convinced, despite everyone there (aside from Undertaker, Grell, and William himself, of course) being totally unaware of their relationship, that William was about to leave him, thanks to Ran Mao's lewd "apology". The demoness kept a firm hold on him, however, apparently finding him too cute to let go, and he could do nothing but watch William helplessly from over one of Ran Mao's endowments as William stalked away, as he just didn't have the heart to hurt-or even push away-a pretty girl who wasn't actually causing him any real harm. He needn't have worried, however; William merely removed his tie and tossed it over his shoulder, so that it landed precisely on Ronald's head.

"As I said, Mr. Knox, you're in charge. I'm forfeiting my pay-and my position-for the rest of the day." He said coolly, his eyes finally focusing on Sebastian, their green-yellow depths hardening to steel in an instant. "And as for _you..."_

William crossed the space in the half-time of a heartbeat, and the two were, instantly, on each other like a couple of caged dogs. The stunned silence that had enveloped everyone else was utterly shattered by the ripping, snarling, shredding, all-out _brawl _going on between the two. William's lunge had knocked them both to the ground, as Sebastian, though he was one of the fastest immortals alive, hadn't been quite fast enough to protect himself from the sudden, brutal attack from the enraged Shinigami. It was now utterly impossible to tell where Shinigami ended and demon began as they fought to downright _murder _each other, right then and there, which was evidenced by the way William was doing all he could possibly do to outright clobber the demon, despite the fact that his injured hand should have impaired him.

_Should _have.

After a second, the silence only broken by the swearing, snarling mass of warring immortal rolling about shamelessly on the floor, Ciel was the first to move. He merely tut-tutted to himself and shook his head, turning back to the mortals as he prepared to choose the next victim, a calm hand to his mouth as he considered the assembled group. He was studying Soma particularly closely, but if the dark-skinned Prince noticed, he didn't really seem to care quite as much anymore.

"Should we stop them...?" He asked, golden eyes huge as he watched the two continue to try to beat the bones out of one another, calling each other some of the dirtiest, downright despicable names in the book, many of them not even in English. Ciel shook his head again, voice apathetic and expression rather bored as he continued to study his adoptive brother.

"Let them, it's been a long time coming. If it doesn't happen now, it will later. Just let them get it out of their systems; they'll be fine." He said, waving a hand dismissively. "Now, Soma, as far as your transformation goes..." Ciel began, looking to Agni as the butler laid a strong yet gentle hand on Soma's shoulder, looking concerned as he met Ciel's eyes.

Grell gave Undertaker a worried look, turning his back to Ronald and Ran Mao, who were still having a miniature power struggle over just where Ronald's head should go, and whether or not he should be allowed to remove his superior's tie from his person.

"You think he'll be okay?" Grell asked, glancing back the the snarling bundle of black-and-white, which had currently hit a wall, and appeared to be using it as some sort of stone-age weapon. "I mean, we can leave him, right...?"

"Oh, sure." Undertaker said with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. "He didn't bring his scythe, and neither did any of the rest of us, so his life isn't in any danger, and, frankly, I think Sebastian had it coming. He struck pretty low with that last comment." He said, glancing back at the two himself, an almost carefree smile on his face. He shook his head, almost fondly, then leaned around Grell and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly. Everyone looked over at him, some of them even jumping, and he simply quirked a finger at them in a "come hither" motion.

"The newborn demons with the two of us, please," He said, sounding more sane than he had before, as he was clearly getting down to business. Raising a fine silver brow and looking over at Ran Mao, then reaching out and gently tugging the sleeve of her dress he spoke with a firm yet slightly amused tone. "You too, miss. Let the poor man breathe."

Ran Mao glanced down at Ronald, who was still pressed firmly against her bosom, then, reluctantly, pat him on the head once more and let him go. Ronald staggered back, gasping for air, his cheeks bright red as he blinked owlishly at the demoness, still reeling from the awkward encounter. He pulled William's tie off of his head with a sharp, nervous jerk, then loosened his own to distract himself, too flushed to be comfortable. Ran Mao seemed to have promptly disregarded him, however, and had moved back to Lau, who was now on his feet and seemed recovered from his transformation. She clung to his arm half affectionately, half protectively, watching as the other newborns pooled around Grell and Undertaker, all of them looking both excited and bewildered as he withdrew the Book from one overlarge sleeve.

"Now, let me make a few things clear," He said, addressing the small crowd before him. "Number one, you're only going back to recruit souls. Not eat them, not form contracts with them, and not to torment them, either... though I can sympathize with how fun that is." He said, a large, mischievous grin painting onto his face. "Oh, I _know _how fun it is. However, the fact of the matter is that you're going to go down there, and you're going to bring humans back. Nothing else, got it? Any funny business," He said, fixing them all with a sharp look that was rather comically reminiscent of William's. "And I'll know. Trust me, I have my ways, and I'll make William over there look like a kitten." He said, gesturing toward the snarling, snapping battle going on, which appeared to have grown twice as violent in the short time. "Number two, you've only got an hour. Just one. We're probably going to make a few more trips after this, as this is the sort of thing you can't accomplish all in one go, but please make haste. Finally," He said, pulling the Bookmark from its place in the Book, then digging around his sleeve until he found his Pen. before handing all three to the still-flushed blond, who stared down at them dumbly, before flicking his eyes back up to the fight, getting rather distressed when the scent of blood filled the air. "Keep a close eye on these, Ronald."

"Y-yessir..." Ronald stuttered, looking dazedly down at the precious items in his hands once again, though he dearly ached to be helping William right then, even though he knew the brunette would kill him if he dared interfere. "I will, Sir..."

"Good. Now, demons!" He said, wrapping an arm around Grell, then placing a hand on the wall, smiling to himself warmly when Grell's smaller, fairer hand fell in place next to his, complimenting it perfectly. "Follow my lead."

They all stared at each other for a second, everyone seeming to expect everyone else to do something, before Undertaker raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat a tad awkwardly.

"Your hands..."

"Oh!" Was the collective cry of realization from the demons, all of them finally comprehending what the ancient Shinigami wanted, before falling in next to the silver-haired immortal and placing their hands against the wall, all in a neat row.

Under Undertaker's guidance and (somewhat) patient instructions, the newborns all managed to form their own portals after a handful of attempts (and perhaps three minutes of exasperation from the two Shinigami, Grell especially) which merged together to form one large, glowing entrance to the Mortal Realm. Agni, though he knew he would be safe, was still reluctant to leave Soma behind. He spared a glance back as they all passed through together, a faint, creased line of worry on his brow. He saw Ciel, who had, in the end, agreed to change Soma only when Agni got back, with his lips fastened to Finnian's. This, the sight of the flustered blond Shinigami tucking the Book into his jacket and running off to supervise the two battling enemies, lest things get too rough, and, finally, his own master waving goodbye, a small, timid smile on his face, was all he saw before he was swallowed up by darkness.

xxx

*The poem isn't mine. I found it on Google while doing some quick research on the Plague, and found it appropriate. I couldn't find a source to credit it to, though, as it was posted on a dozen different sites without any info on who wrote it. 0.o Still, not mine. Not mine at all!


	63. Stitches

And with this chapter, lovelies, we close the story known as _Commands and Caresses,_ and the adventure it's been writing it.

I know, lately, that things have been hectic for me, and you've been utterly deprived of updates, but I'm happy to say that things are working themselves out, and that this following week is my last week of school. Therefore, I'll have summer break to work on _Siren Song of the Fallen,_ and updates should be much more frequent! I've got almost the entire plot worked out, and, because I've left you guys starving for updates lately, I'm going to post another chapter as a sort of "teaser page". :) This story will be more WillxRon centric, but the other Shinis, as well as the demons and some OCs, will be very much involved as well.

Thank you for sticking with me as I wrote this massive atrocity of a fanfic, and being such kind and patient fans. ^_^ I've gotten nothing but understanding and good words from all of you, and since it's been such a rough period in my life, I'm so incredibly grateful for that. Thank you so much.

I'm going to go through and edit/fix up _Commands and Caresses_ before I start _Siren Song of the Fallen,_ just to fix up any plotholes and refresh myself on my own story canon (epic fail right thar). However, editing takes A LOT less time than writing the damn thing, so I should be done within a week or two, and you'll have an equally long, agonizing sequel thrown in your face. XD ENJOY!

As we close out this story, we've got one more piece of fanart. This comes from Diana-Chi over at dA, and it's simply called "Resmodus".

.com/art/Resmodus-209379793

Again, thank you all so much for all the lovely fanart, the two fanvids (they're on Youtube, and they're called "WilliamxRonald" and "UndertakerxGrell", pretty self-explanatory. XD Here, have these: .com/watch?v=KK-TCUUB7M&feature=BFa&list=FLkz3KlkLPugg&index=3 and .com/watch?v=-WFvyw8Pa7Y&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL respectively.) and, most of all, the love and support and devotion. I love you guys, I really do, so, finally, I bring you the conclusion to _Commands and Caresses!_

xxx

"Come inside, come inside, my dearest..."

The undertaker held the door to his shop open, beckoning to Grell in a warm way that was reserved for only the people Undertaker loved and respected the most; that is to say, perhaps three beings currently in existence. All others were sure to receive a cold and rather creepy shoulder when they opened the doors to the office, so the warm welcome Grell received was a very rare and privileged sight, indeed.

They had slipped away from the demons without too much difficulty at all. The five newborns had spent about ten minutes brainstorming and bickering amongst themselves about who they'd find and how they'd get them to Hell without causing either party too much damage, before Undertaker had reminded them (none too kindly) about the hour time limit, and the fact that time was of the essence, and speed was necessary. He'd then continued by saying that he and Grell needed to "take care of some business", and that they'd be "splitting up" with the demons for a few minutes, but would meet back up with them as soon as they could. (In actuality, Grell didn't have the faintest clue of what Undertaker could have been talking about, but he didn't really care, so long as he got to go along with him.)

"But don't try _anything."_ Undertaker had growled, pointing a finger at them warningly, keen emerald eyes boring into theirs. "I'll know. I have my ways. Trust me."

The demons, incredibly new to the world of immortals and not entirely trusting of Undertaker in the first place had, of course, listened, and had promised and sworn up and down-repeatedly-that they'd behave, and get back as soon as possible. They'd all left then-after Undertaker had wasted another five minutes re-teaching Maylene how to make a portal, and repeatedly assuring her that it could transport both she and Tanaka (who was still "deformed") without any problems at all-and no sooner had they'd gone than Undertaker had turned and leapt, high, and began to lead Grell across the rooftops and to his own shop.

"Will you really be able to tell if they pull anything? Just like that?" Grell had asked with a quirked eyebrow as he raced his lover across the highest points of London. (He'd won, being one of, if not the, fastest Shinigami in the Realms, but against Undertaker, he had to admit that it _had _been a bit of a challenge.)

"No," Undertaker said with a mischievous grin, vivid green eyes glancing to Grell as he shot his beloved a cheeky wink. "But, they don't know that."

Grell's eyes had rolled, and Undertaker hadn't missed it.

But, he hadn't missed the smile Grell tried to hide, either, so there was no point in taking offense.

Not that he really would have, anyway. It _was_ Grell, afterall.

Now, Grell smiled warmly back at Undertaker and stepped inside without a second thought, his eyes absently scanning over the vague, dusty, dark gray shapes of the odds and ends that made up Undertaker's shop. Even in the bright light of one of London's rare sunny days, the shop was still very dark and dismal, and Grell had to allow his eyes a short moment to adjust when Undertaker followed him inside and swung the door shut, sealing them in darkness.

A rushing heat shot straight up from his toes and melted through his entire body the second Undertaker wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling him into a close hug. He responded subconsciously, his arms immediately raising up to clutch his hands fondly at Undertaker's own. He leaned his brow against Undertaker's scarred cheek, his heart somehow warming further when he felt his lover smile, heard him sigh softly, contently, saw his eyes shine in the way they only did when he gazed at Grell...

"I love you. Very, very much." Undertaker whispered gently in his ear, and Grell shivered as the Shinigami kissed his cheek, touch as light and fleeting as a butterfly's, yet, oddly, somehow able to make his nerves jump with pleasure, as though he'd be electrocuted. "But, there truly is something that I must take care of, Grell. You're welcome to come with me, but, no matter what happens, please keep in mind that you're my one and only lady." He said, gently cupping Grell's face with one hand and tilting his head back to meet his eyes. "I would never dream of being unfaithful to a creature as magnificent as you. Afterall, it's incredibly lucky that I have you," He breathed, lips brushing Grell's as he spoke, making the smaller Shinigami feel lightheaded; drunken, even... "Why would I dare risk it, for someone who could only ever be half as perfect?"

Grell felt his heart stutter at the compliment, and he knew he was blushing, but... he couldn't help but feel an extreme bout of apprehension. Maybe, even, a bit of _dread _as Undertaker released him, sliding away like water, then taking his hand instead and leading him toward the back of the shop; gently, yet in such a way that Grell never could have resisted him. Just what exactly was a caution like that supposed to mean, anyway? He trusted Undertaker, of course (after all the man had done for him in the short time they'd been together, he'd be utterly stupid and downright paranoid not to) but every time Grell had been told something like that, he'd either been dumped, cheated on, or both, not long after. He loved Undertaker to death and, even, more than the darkly romantic mystery of Death itself. If the ancient Shinigami ever did any such thing to him, it would break him like nothing else had... or ever could.

Possibly, even, to the point where he'd break down into shambles, and never recover.

Therefore, he watched Undertaker quite warily as his elder led him to a discreet door near the back of the shop; just across the hall from the bathroom that Grell had used what seemed like years ago, and just before the back room, which was half kitchen, half sitting room, judging from the glimpse Grell caught of a large, ancient-looking fireplace and more up-to-date (but still very old) sink not far from it. Undertaker angled his head back slightly, and reached past his scarred neck and into the neckline of his robe, pulling out a silver chain that matched the shining, well-kept silver key that hung from it; a key identical to William's.

Wordlessly, Undertaker slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened with a gentle _click_, and Undertaker pushed it open without a sound, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.

The small yet obviously well-loved room inside was impeccably neat and orderly, especially when you compared it to the rest of the shop. Where dust and ash littered the floor throughout the rest of the office, not even a single speck was to be seen on the warm brown, new-looking wooden floor here. While the air was stale and in desperate need of a draft throughout the rest of the mortuary, the air here was sweet and earthy with the scent of myrrh (not unlike the scent of Undertaker's own skin, Grell realized, having noticed the similarity with the first breath he took) and as fresh as any spring breeze could aspire to be. The room was utterly dim and bare, however, save for a small, carefully kept little table, adorned with a baby-blue tablecloth, some pictures (or drawings, perhaps? Grell couldn't tell in the dim lighting) mounted towards the back of the table, a pair of candles on either side. In the foreground lay a select few dearly beloved, well-polished trinkets; a small, golden, heart-shaped locket, slightly ajar in order to expose what was contained inside, a gorgeous silver bracelet, seemingly constructed of interwoven, mercury vines that shone brightly, even in the dark light of the room. In the center of all of this was something that took Grell's breath away, and he instantly realized that he wasn't looking at any ordinary, out-of-the-way decoration.

He was looking at a shrine.

He held his breath as Undertaker gently pulled the door closed behind them, removing his beloved hat in the same motion; a clear, blatantly obvious sign of respect to the small, beloved altar... and the memory of who it was for. His aura, and the very air of the room itself, were nowhere near terse and business-like, as they would have been if Undertaker had felt obligated to come here, instead of actually caring deeply about the ritual; no, instead, every single curve of Undertaker's body, every soft touch of light to the shrine, every little atom in the air... they all seemed to give off a certain, heart-rending sadness as Undertaker, silent as a ghost, hung his hat on a small, inconspicuous peg on the back of the door. Even such a simple, seemingly-mundane movement seemed to let out a silent, agonizing scream of the utter heartbreak that had lain and-would _always_ lay-deep inside Undertaker throughout the years. Grell couldn't bring himself to do anything but watch, his heart feeling as though it were cracking into pieces with sympathy, as Undertaker quietly turned and approached the shrine, his footsteps as soft and subdued as his current demeanor.

He came to a quiet stop before the shrine, silently reaching into his robes and drawing out a small box of matches. Grell watched, as motionless as stone, as Undertaker struck a match and filled the room with the scent of heated, burning wood, then began to solemnly light the four candles, giving a gentle light to the room. He blew out the match, then, and replaced it in the matchbox; presumably, to throw away at a later, more appropriate time. His hand crept into his robe once more, replacing the matches and, instead, drawing out a small, carefully wrapped bundle. With his back still to Grell, he unwrapped it slowly, then let out a quiet, dreary sigh as he stared down at whatever was in his hand.

Grell knew exactly what it was without having to see it, however, and he felt the tears he was blinking back forming a tight knot in his throat. He did his best to swallow them down as he quietly approached Undertaker, wrapping his arms around his lover from behind and burying his face against his shoulder, his hands clenching fistfuls of robes. He was doing his best to offer sincere comfort to his beloved, not passive-aggressive jealousy, and Undertaker must have sensed this. A weak smile tugged up the corners of his mouth as he placed Claudia's recovered scythe down on the shrine, right next to its twin, which had been left alone for over three centuries; all while its brother had been in the hands of a mortal enemy.

Undertaker let out a long, low sigh, seemingly relieving some sort or inner pressure. His hands reached up to gently touch Grell's as he gazed at the two knives at the forefront of the shrine, and Grell literally felt something, some raging, roaring part of Undertaker's agonizing turmoil, calm and come to peace as he gazed at the two identical blades. His lover seemed to relax a tension that had lain with him for years, and Grell _felt_ it in him as his mood and his general aura seemed to lighten... if only just a little bit.

Still, a little was far, far better than nothing at all.

"I finally found it, darling," He said, so softly that Grell, despite his close proximity, almost missed it. He blinked, a tad startled, and raised his head to look at Undertaker, only to find his lover's eyes closed as he allowed cherished, bittersweet memories to replay themselves in his memory. Grell bit his lip, razor teeth nipping at the soft surface, realizing that Undertaker wasn't talking to him, but to the shrine.

No.

To Claudia.

"After all these years..." He sighed softly, sounding sad and yet, somehow, utterly relieved, as someone might sound after a loved one who has suffered long and hard finally passes into the comforting, eternal sleep of Death. "I thought it was gone, and never coming back, and it was like I was missing, and would always miss, half of something incredibly important."

Grell stifled a quiet gasp of surprise when Undertaker suddenly turned and pulled him close, hugging him tightly, almost-but not quite-to the point of squeezing the air out of him and becoming painful. Grell, a tad disoriented by the sudden change, took a second to allow his mind to catch up. His arms, however, had wrapped around Undertaker immediately, in a response as involuntarily but as necessary as breathing.

"But I've found it now," Undertaker murmured against Grell's hair, eyes still closed as the ever-bittersweet feeling known as Love-both for times gone and times to come-stole over every fiber of his being. "I'm happy now..."

Grell sincerely hoped that Undertaker didn't notice the silent tears on his cheeks, or the gentle, suppressed trembles running down his entire body. Never, ever before, in his entire life, not even after Undertaker had made his terrible sacrifice and had nearly ended his own life in the process, had he ever felt so... _needed._ Not just wanted, as one would be for some sort of friendly, casual service, or pleasure of the flesh, but absolutely, infinitely _needed._ Undertaker had, literally, just told not only Grell, but his _deceased lover_, that Grell was his missing half, lost so long ago. That Grell was what made him happy.

That Grell was what gave him life again.

He wasn't saying it in front of her shrine to insult her memory, or make Grell, in some way, second-guess himself; he was saying it to tell Claudia, wherever she may be, that he'd moved on. That, though she was still, and always would be, embedded deep into his memory, life, and very heart itself, he'd found someone else to share her space. That he'd found someone who he could still hold and kiss and wake up next to every morning. That certain someone who brought him the joy that heartache had long left him without.

That he'd finally stopped mourning, just enough, to be happy again; just as she, and any good, true lover, would have wanted.

And, he was saying it to Grell to let him know that he _was,_ without a shadow of a doubt, that "someone".

Grell focused his eyes on the twin death scythes laying on the shrine, a small smile on his face as he blinked the last few tears away and took a deep breath to steady himself. He pulled Undertaker closer, hugging him just as tightly as he was being held, and did his best to keep his voice even.

"I'll take good care of him." He said softly to the shrine, and, of course, to Claudia. Nuzzling his face into the crook of Undertaker's scarred neck, he closed his eyes tightly and pressed his face against the warm, welcoming flesh there. "He'll always have me, just like he always has you. I promise..."

His voice wavered slightly on the last word, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, feeling the smooth, raised edge of the scar against his cheek, and the bitter pang of shared sorrow in his heart. He meant every word he said, and he hoped that Undertaker-and Claudia-knew it.

He wasn't disappointed.

Undertaker placed a gentle hand to his tear-wet cheek, cupping Grell's face and lifting it to meet his beautiful, two-toned eyes. Undertaker was smiling now, more earnestly, in a way that was both sad, and yet glowing with absolute adoration. He bent, gently kissing the tears from Grell's cheeks, and then ran an affectionate, warm hand through the bright crimson of Grell's hair.

"Thank you, Grell." He said softly, but with such earnesty that Grell couldn't help but match his smile as best he could. "That means far, far more to me than you'll ever know. I'm absolutely positive that she appreciates it, too."

"I mean it," Grell said, reaching up and laying his hand over Undertaker's, tilting his head further into the touch. "I love you, and I wouldn't leave you for all the Realms."

"I know." Undertaker said, pressing his lips to the top of his head, making Grell's heart beat faster when he felt them curve into a smile. "And nor I you, of course. Never in a million eons." He sighed, jeweled eyes sliding closed with apparent contentment, pausing for a long moment before he spoke again. "...It's a funny thing, isn't it?"

"What?" Grell asked softly, pulling back just enough to study him. Undertaker met his eyes, a fond smile still written on his face as he grasped Grell's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Love." He said simply, kissing the corner of Grell's mouth, smile widening slightly as Grell's cheeks tinted with color. "It's funny how it seems to be the only thing in existence that never runs out, is completely free, and will universally make everyone happy." He said, squeezing Grell's hand gently. "Who knew something that wasn't quite tangible could be the answer to everything... even for a soul as old as me?"

Grell smiled back, though his own was much sadder, and laid his head against Undertaker's neck once more.

"It's funny how it's the only thing that can give you a reason to live," He said quietly, his free hand sliding around Undertaker's waist and up, up, to touch the spot where he knew all-too-well where his lover's freshest scar lay. "While giving you a reason to die."

"Now now," Undertaker said, though his voice wasn't harsh or demeaning, but, rather, soothing like cool water, and as soft as feathers. He released Grell's hand to gently cup his face once more, making sure that the younger Shinigami met his eyes. "As I said, I do not regret it, you owe me nothing, and I'd happily do it again, so long as I knew it would keep you safe." He said, his thumb gently stroking Grell's cheek as he stared deeply into his eyes, before leaning in and gently kissing his lips, his cheek, his ear... "Always to keep you safe..." He murmured, leaning his brow against Grell's, gazing at him from under long, silver lashes. "My lady," He whispered, voice low and husky and unintentionally seductive, making Grell shiver from head to toe. Undertaker noticed, smirked, gripped his waist and leaned forward, until Grell was bent back like the most graceful dancer... "I've always thought of you as my dearest, luscious, vivacious red rose; as beautiful as you are dangerous, as your thorns are still in place, just as they should be, my rose..." He whispered, his thumb gently caressing over Grell's lips. Gods above, he loved Grell's lips; soft and supple and misleadingly beautiful, as what lay beneath was nothing short of brilliant deception.

It was really no wonder that he spent so much time playing with them.

Grell, however, froze then, going utterly stiff in Undertaker's arms, as though he were frightened. But, it wasn't because of the Undertaker's lavish attention, or the touch of his body, or, in actuality, anything the man was doing or could help at all, as he couldn't have possibly been aware of it, anyway. At the mention of Grell being his "red rose", Grell's memory had instantly snapped back to the horrible night that was just as clear and utterly terrifying in his mind as it had been before his eyes. The sight of Undertaker, crumpled on the ground before him, utterly still, utterly silent, his life's blood spilling out onto the floor...

The clear shape of a vivid red rose that it had taken as it puddled around Grell's shoes, if only for a second...

"M'lady?" Undertaker inquired, sounding a tad puzzled, and perhaps even alarmed, as he immediately allowed Grell to stand straight again and began examining him closely, as though checking for illness. "Is everything alright?"

Grell looked at him for a moment, weighing out his response carefully. Undertaker had absolutely no way of knowing what Grell had seen, and telling him might make him worry, or even (however unlikely it was, considering that it w_as_ Undertaker Grell was talking to) make him seem a little crazy. On the other hand, though, Grell didn't want to lie to him, but he wasn't quite sure of what to say or how to say it and actually make sense, as Undertaker always seemed to get a bit upset whenever Grell began to talk about the incident, and would cut him off with reassurances. So, instead, Grell merely forced a smile and answered by asking a question of his own.

"Do you believe in Fate?" Grell inquired, trying to sound as he twined both arms around Undertaker's neck now. "I mean, what William said makes sense, but doesn't it feel like the past repeats itself sometimes? Wouldn't it take Fate for that to happen?" _Or for me to see a rose in your blood, when you've always thought of me as just that; your rose?_

Undertaker smiled and ran a hand through Grell's hair, relaxing as he came to the conclusion that Grell was fine, and he had nothing to worry about.

"It's just as William says," He responded, kissing the end of Grell's nose and smiling wider when Grell fidgeted shyly. "Fate is a fairytale, made up by the gullible race we know as humans. However, I _do_ like to believe that, even if they're strict, rule-thumping hardasses like William, the Gods have a soft side, and they do it for good reasons, just like he does. I've seen it before myself, if only very rarely, but they seem to send signs in the oddest of ways." He said, kissing Grell's lips in earnest this time. "It's rumored that if you see a sign, it's more likely to fulfill itself if you don't tell anyone, but I honestly have no idea how true that is." He said, a fine silver brow raising as he noticed Grell grinning, as though Undertaker had just said something hilarious. He didn't ask any questions, though, as he knew Grell would tell him what was on his mind if he chose to, so there was no reason in pressuring him. Instead, he merely continued, "As for the past repeating itself? Well..." He said, smiling fondly down at Grell, looking a little sad and quite happy at the same time. "It does seem to, yes, but I think it's just the Gods' way of giving us all another chance."

Grell met his eyes, his grin vanishing into a small, thoughtful frown. Undertaker blinked and tilted his head, curious, as Grell pulled away from him just enough to study him carefully, head to toe.

"Is that my pet name, now?" Grell asked quietly, a gentle blush coloring his face. "Your rose?"

"If you like it, yes." Undertaker responded, sounding both a tad nervous and a tad amused. "Is it okay with you, Grell?"

Grell nodded, smiling at him, and leaned up to kiss his cheek gently, a sly smirk coming across his face as he noticed Undertaker look away quickly, as though he were a little... shy?

That was simply _too_ precious.

"I like it." He murmured, hugging Undertaker tightly. "I like it a lot. I love it, really, but..."

"But?" Undertaker prompted when Grell failed to finish his sentence after several seconds, his head still laying on Undertaker's shoulder as he trailed off. Grell pulled away again, this time turning his back and walking away from Undertaker, giving the elder Shinigami a brief second of honest anxiety, before he turned around and looked at Undertaker thoughtfully. One arm was crossed across his chest, the elbow of his other resting in his palm as he covered his mouth with one hand, contemplating.

"I need a name for you." He said decisively, his eyes dropping to stare at the floor as he thought, almost hard enough for Undertaker to hear it. "A name that only I'm allowed to use, okay?"

"That's perfectly fine." Undertaker answered calmly, still watching him closely, looking rather pleased now, since Grell was so obviously infatuated with him in that moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking..." Grell answered quietly. "It has to be special."

Undertaker didn't press him further, and, instead, simply continued to watch him as he mulled over whatever names were going through his head. Grell continued to stare down at the floor for several long moments, before he began to pace to and fro, thinking harder than he had in quite a long while. Undertaker studied him as he paced for a few minutes, clearly amused, and growing more and more curious by the second. He still didn't push Grell for an answer, however, and, instead, waited with the patience that living for so many, many years would give any being. Finally, Grell suddenly stopped pacing, turned, and launched himself into Undertaker's arms, throwing the startled Shinigami-who, by that point, had actually been daydreaming a bit-slightly off balance as he wrapped him in a tight hug. Undertaker steadied himself with a jerk as Grell buried his face into his robes, seeming very, very happy, indeed.

"Stitches." He said firmly, clearly certain of his decision as he continued to nuzzle into Undertaker's chest, as though he would never leave his little haven. "Stitches."

Undertaker blinked, then chuckled softly, rather amused and downright charmed by Grell's endearing little show. He kissed Grell's sweet-smelling hair, rubbing his back as he held him close, wondering for the millionth time how he got so lucky.

"Well, m'lady, I've got no complaints about it, and it's fine with me if you use that name." He said, tugging at a crimson lock teasingly, but being careful to be gentle. "But, I must wonder, why choose that name in particular? I can't help but think that it would bring up some... _negative_ memories for you, my rose."

Grell shook his head stubbornly, as though what Undertaker was saying was the craziest thing he'd ever heard in his entire afterlife. He pulled away to meet those gorgeous jewel-green eyes above him, and raised his had to trail his fingertips over the row of stitches on Undertaker's face. Undertaker blinked as Grell suddenly took one of his hands with his own, and then brought it to his chest, allowing Undertaker to feel his heartbeat through the fabric there. Grell then, carefully, guided Undertaker's fingers between the buttons of his vest and crisp white shirt to touch his own, small row of stitches, already as smooth and gently raised as Undertaker's own.

What Grell said next utterly melted Undertaker's heart, and he knew, in that moment, without the faintest shadow of a doubt, that they were going to last forever.

"No..." Grell answered quietly, smiling up at him with wide eyes that were brimming with utter love and adoration.

"Because stitches are," He paused, reconsidered, shook his head again, laughing at himself. "No, Stitches _is_ the thing... that's closest to my heart."

_End._


	64. Siren Song of the Fallen Teaser

_Within the next hundred orbits of Earth, a sequence of events that will make the Realms tremble to their very roots will take place. A single black soul will be the end of all of you. It will be driven by the Seven Sins, but it will be pure of body. It will be the black widow that lures you into its web of lies with a sweet smile and a soft whisper as it caresses your cheek and beckons you toward demise. It will be everything you have ever prepared for, and yet, you cannot stop it once it fixes its lips on yours and rips out your breath with a single kiss made of steel teeth. If you wish to save your single stitch in the vast fabric of the Universe, be warned, as you should always be careful to scent the wind, even when it blows the wrong way. Take this knowledge and use it to your advantage, or suffer the consequences; it is your choice, and keep in mind, the future is not set in stone, though certain paths are the only ones paved._

It's been nearly five years since the Gods spoke. Five years since the second great war between the immortals. Five years since almost everything was lost.

Almost.

It seems life is back to normal for both Hell and the Library. The demons and Shinigami alike have rebuilt their ranks very nicely, as both species have doubled the number of members they had before the war. With the work spread out more, and a tense treaty in place between the two, things seem to be running far more smoothly than before, and all seems well. Better, in fact.

The ominous, divine warning seems far, far behind them.

That is, until the night that a traitor showed himself amongst the Shinigami ranks.

A traitor no one would have expected. A traitor that everyone trusted, admired, and, in some cases, loved.

Without warning, everything has changed. He's lost everything, everyone, and, in a most terrifying, heartbreaking turn of events... Ronald Knox is not only only alone, but running for his life, from the very people he holds closest.

Now a fugitive with a bounty on his head, Ronald must find a way to clear his name and untangle the web of lies he's been ensnared in. It is his job to piece together the scattered, ambiguous clues he's been given, and figure out just who he can trust, and who has lost faith in him. There's just one big problem...

Ronald isn't even sure if he's innocent.


End file.
